Pirates of the Caribbean 6: The Mists of Time
by spentlizard
Summary: Sequel to my DMTNT rewrite. One year after Will Turner's curse was lifted, he is living happily with his family at long last. However, Will's idyllic life is interrupted by the return of an old friend who warns him of the coming of foes old and new alike. To protect his family from the gods, Will must ally once more with the crew of the Black Pearl to stop their wrath upon the sea.
1. Non Nobis Domine

**_PLEASE READ BEFORE PROCEEDING_ : The following work is not a direct sequel to the film Dead Men Tell No Tales. It is, in fact, a sequel based on my rewrite of the fifth movie, and so the plot is vastly effected by what happens in that story. You may read this story as you wish, but I warn you of spoilers for the previous story.**

 **Without further ado, here is the next chapter in the Pirates of the Caribbean saga.**

* * *

 _Ionian Sea, 1189_

* * *

It was well past dark, and hardly anything could be seen in this part of the Mediterranean. In the vast, open waters, the only thing that could be seen were the reflection of the stars in the sky, shining brilliantly on the surface. It was a beautiful image, wonderous to behold for anyone who could see it.

But of course, there was hardly anyone in this area at this time, save for one lone ship gliding in an eastern course.

The ship itself was large and sturdy, made from the finest wood in the Ardennes Forest in the Kingdom of France. It was an imposing design invoking strength in anyone who laid eyes upon it, and had dozens of oars on the upper and lower decks. It had tremendous white sails in place above, and each of the three sections of sails were adorned with a bright, red cross to represent their faith to all.

The men aboard the vessel included over a hundred men, who were garbed with white cloth lain over shiny, metal armor. On the front of their tunics they too bore the same red cross that adorned their sails.

These men were members of a Catholic military order known as the Knights Templar.

It was a troop transport ship inbound from France to the Holy Land, where it would join up with their other fellow Christian soldiers in reclaiming Jerusalem from the Saracens who occupied it. But before they could join their English, French, and German brothers, they had received a special assignment from the Grand Master himself and were now en route to recover something of vital importance.

A young Templar novice by the name of Evrard was on the top deck, wanting to get some fresh air after spending an extended period below decks. He took a look at the moon up above them, and noticed that it was unusually close. Evrard thought it to be strange; he had never seen the moon that big before.

But Evrard shook his head, figuring he was superstitious on the matter. He thought maybe he should speak to the Commander and see how much longer it would be before they would reach their destination.

Heading over to where the Commander was, he saw him hunched and looking down at a map with the navigator of the ship.

"... and I believe if we keep heading northeast _here,"_ the navigator pointed down at the map, "we'll find the island in no time."

"No, no," the Commander said, "If we went northeast at that point we'd well overshoot our destination and be too far north. We need to be closer to Athens."

The Commander, Sir Robert de Montreal, was an experienced soldier and devout Catholic. He carried with him an old claymore sword bearing the mark of the order, and wore a blood-red cape over his armor with a white cross against it. Though his age was beginning to show, that did not at all hinder his ability to command and to fight. For this, he was granted this mission by the Grand Master with the blessing of the Pope in order to bring about victory for their religion.

"Commander," Evrard addressed his superior, to which Robert looked up at the young knight and said, "Ah, Evrard. What can I help you with?"

"Nothing sir," Evrard told him, "Just nerves, is all."

"Nerves?" Robert asked of his man, leaning up from the table, "Regarding what?"

"Well..." Evrard swallowed, and he allowed himself a moment to try to figure out what was best to say, "Part of me feels that this is a bit blasphemous, that we're dishonoring God by doing this."

"Not at all, my good man," Robert came forward, patting Evrard's shoulder with his gloved hand, "We're doing this in God's name."

Robert led Evrard to the starboard rail of the ship, and asked of him, "Tell me... what do you know of the Spear of Destiny?"

"The Holy Lance," Evrard answered, "It was used by the Roman Longinus to pierce Christ during the Crucifixion."

"You have it exactly, dear Evrard," Robert smiled at his answer, "it is indeed the one the pagans used to ensure that our Savior was dead."

"But why are we searching for it?" Evrard inquired, "If Christ was wounded by it-"

"- then imagine what it could do to mortal men," Robert said with grin.

Evrard looked at him confused, and asked, "What do you mean?"

"The Master has done considerable research on the history of this region for some time," Robert began, "He believes that the Spear was the Sarissa used by Alexander the Great, and he used it to conquer the many lands that made up his empire."

Evrard blinked, confused at this knowledge.

"According to legend, the Spear was built by the god of war Ares to kill other gods," Robert continued, "Alexander discovered it while in Greece, and used it in his many conquests. But the power of the Spear began to scare him, and so he hid it away before it was rediscovered by the Roman Empire. It is not mentioned in the Bible, but Christ was still alive when the Romans crucified him. The Spear was then used to end what was left of his mortal life."

Evrard stood with his mouth open, not believing what he was being told. This went against everything he was brought up to believe. Christ did die on the cross before ascending into Heaven, not being murdered by the weapon of a heathen god.

"How can you say such a thing!?" Evrard demanded, and Robert sighed, seeing how negatively he reacted to it.

"Christ's death was prophesized; it was going to happen anyway," Robert told him, "That's why when we find it, it will vindicate us."

Evrard still wasn't convinced, and so Robert said, "It proves that he is the Savior. Nevermind the legend behind it, this proves he was no mere mortal, and that it was a tool left by the Almighty to bring about our salvation. With it, we will crush the faith of the Saracens, and those who resist will be wiped out by its righteous power."

Evrard did not know what to say. He was still skeptical as to believing this to be true; it went against the teachings of the Church. As for him, he never felt that his faith needed to be vindicated. He disagreed with the Muslims on all matters spiritually, but nevertheless respected their right to practice their own faith. He only joined up with the Templars to protect his fellow Christians, not to destroy Islam in its entirety with the alleged wrath brought about by an ancient artifact.

"Land!" the navigator pointed, and all hands on the deck looked ahead of them to see a small rocky formation ahead. Robert smiled, knowing that if the calculations and the maps were correct, they had found the island where the Spear was hidden.

They docked themselves along the beach, and Robert took a small party of men, including Evrard, inland. They spent a considerable amount of time clambering over the rocky landscape, which was difficult to do while they held torches in their hands. Eventually, they were greeted by the sight of the mouth of a cave, which looked tall and wide enough for a grown man to step through.

"Shall we, gentlemen?" one of the knights said, stepping forward. But before he could enter the cave, Robert put his arm out in front of him to prevent him from going in.

"Hold just a moment," Robert spoke to the men in a serious tone. He raised the torch that was in his other hand, and he saw that there was a carving above the entrance to the cave. Observing it for a moment, Robert realized that it was written in Latin.

" _Beware, you who should enter. Herein lies the killer of gods. But be wary, for to take the power to kill a god is to challenge them,"_ Robert read the text above the entry, and all the men present had nervous expressions looking upon what they read.

"That cannot be good at all," Evrard commented, "I have a bad feeling about this."

"As do I," Robert said, rereading the warning, "But we still have our duty to do."

Swallowing, Robert stepped forward, and his men reluctantly did the same. They had no idea what was coming their way.

Stepping inside the cave, Robert led them down a long, narrow stone corridor, before they entered what looked like a shrine. There was a ginormous stone coffin resting at the rear of the room, much larger than a human being, covered in Ancient Greek lettering. All around them, the men held their torches up to see an assortment of gold, pottery, and other artifacts surrounding the room.

"Incredible," one of the knights said.

"Look at all this _gold,"_ another commented, observing the riches inside, "This must be worth a fortune."

"We're here for the Spear, nothing more," Robert told his men, staring intently at the coffin. His Greek wasn't the strongest, but if he was reading it right, then the large coffin said...

" _Ares,"_ Robert uttered aloud, realizing what this place was. This was the shrine to the god of war, Ares. And this coffin right here was where he was supposedly buried.

"This is impossible," Robert said, walking forward to the coffin. There was no way that there was an actual god buried here. Surely It was just symbolic.

Robert rested his hand atop of the stone coffin, brushing off some of the dust resting atop of it. There was no trace of the Spear anywhere in the room, so he figured it had to be inside.

Before he ordered his men to help him lift the lid, Robert looked ahead and saw drawings on the wall, which looked like a number of different weapons, each with Greek lettering describing each one.

The Spear of Ares.

The Shield of Athena.

The Trident of Poseidon.

The Sword of Triton.

Of all the images present, the Sword of Triton was the largest and located in the center of the wall. It appeared to be a large broadsword with a jewel-encrusted hilt. The Spear, the Trident, and the Shield were smaller and surrounded the Sword. The three weapons looked like they had large jewels embedded at their center.

"What is this?" Robert asked himself. He had never seen anything like this in all his life. What did it all mean?

There was nothing on the wall to further describe what these things were or what they meant. Robert figured that the only way to understand anything further would be to open the coffin to see if the Spear lay inside.

"Help me move this thing," he called to his men, and the knights came over to the Commander's side and started to push back the heavy stone. Eventually they forced it off, and gazed in awe at what they saw.

There was a ginormous skeleton lying in the coffin, far bigger than that of an ordinary human. The Templars figured that this must be Ares, the god of war himself.

But more than that, they saw that he was grasping onto.

The Spear of Destiny.

The tip of the Spear was of an intricate design, being of a design of which none of the men had ever seen. It had a pattern of gold in the center, wrapped around the blackened metal. The wooden handle of the weapon was a charred black color like it had been burned. But strangest of all was the point that the wooden handle and the metal tip met, and they saw a green crystal embedded in the center glowing brightly.

Robert's mouth dropped, never having seen something as extraordinary in his life. Quickly, he had to take a step back and drew his sword. He kneeled down and placed the blade into the ground, and closed his eyes.

The rest of the knights followed suit and kneeled next to him, and soon enough they all started to chant, _"Non nobis Domine, non nobis, sed nomini tuo da gloriam."_

The Templars stood up, and Robert walked over to the coffin and looked on in awe at the weapon. Slowly, he reached a hand forward to grab it, but before he did Evrard grabbed his hand.

"I beseech you, sir," Evrard began, "Don't."

"There is nothing to fear, Evrard," Robert said, "This is a holy weapon."

"But remember the warning outside," Evrard cautioned him, "Those that remove the Spear will be challenged by the gods."

"But we have no need to fear them," Robert told him, "As you can see, the god Ares is clearly dead."

"Sir, I believe this to be a bad idea," Evrard told him.

"Your concern is reasonable, dear Evrard," Robert said, "But we have a task to complete."

With that, Robert reached into the coffin and grabbed the Spear by the handle. Pulling it out, he held it in his hands, gazing at the glowing jewel in the center.

"Oh, it's beautiful," Robert said, and then looked to his men, who were waiting for something to happen.

Only nothing did.

"What do you suppose it does?" one of the knights asked.

"I do not know entirely," Robert said, "Let us take it back to the ship for research."

Robert exited the cave, followed closely by his men. They soon arrived back at the ship, and the entire crew looked at what they had discovered.

"Let us make way for the Holy Land, gentlemen," Robert said, "We have what we came for."

The sails were hoisted and the men below started to row, while Robert sat down in his chair on the upper deck and continued studying the Spear.

"So, this is the weapon Longinus used to kill Christ," Robert said to Evrard, "Imagine the power this thing could hold."

"I hope you know what you are doing, sir," Evrard told him, "We've tampered with forces I do not believe were ever meant to be tampered with.

"It is no worry, my good man," Robert reassured him, "Everything will be al-"

Before he could finish, the jewel at the center started to glow a bright green, and the humming from it increased in intensity. Standing up, Robert's breath picked up as he watched this sudden change, and Evrard took a few steps back.

"What's happening?" Evrard asked, and before Robert could provide him with a response, one of the men on the deck said, "Hold on, where did that mist come from?"

Robert and Evrard looked ahead of them to see a cloud of mist ahead of them on the sea. Mist was not uncommon but it suddenly appeared in front of them. It soon began to spread both left and right in an almost unnatural fashion, blocking the way forward to them.

Robert and Evrard looked towards the Spear, which continued to glow intensely. They looked at each other, and Evrard shouted, "You fool! We were warned!"

In a state of panic, Robert did not answer him, but instead hastily shouted, "Turn the ship around! Now!"

There was more panic along the deck as the crewmen were working as fast as possible to stay away from the mist. But soon the mist encircled them, and there was no way they could go but through.

Robert's mouth hung open in horror, not knowing what awaited them beyond the mist as they drifted closer to it.

"You've damned us all!" Evrard shouted, and Robert did not argue with him. Instead he closed his eyes and prepared for what was to come.

There were panicked cries all along the ship, and the ship then entered the mist.

Soon the panicked cries died down. After that the mist dissipated.

The ship had disappeared. The Templars were gone.

Forgotten in time.

* * *

 _Walt Disney Pictures Presents_

 _In Association with Jerry Bruckheimer Films_

 _A Gore Verbinski film_

 _Starring Orlando Bloom_

 _Kaya Scodelario_

 _Brenton Thwaites_

 _Jack Davenport_

 _Penelope Cruz_

 _Kevin R. McNally_

 _Bill Nighy_

 _Stephen Dillane_

 _David Wenham_

 _with_ _Keira Knightley_

 _Stellan Skarsgard_

 _and Geoffrey Rush_

 _PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN: THE MISTS OF TIME_

* * *

 **A/N: Well, it's sequel-time already! I hope you all enjoyed my first chapter as a continuation of my rewrite of Dead Men Tell No Tales. If you haven't already, I strongly advise you to do so otherwise the story I am about to tell won't make sense.**

 **So yeah, I decided to incorporate several aspects of history, mythology, and religion into one big narrative. I made a lot of details up about Alexander the Great and other subjects, but understand this is a work of fiction and not meant to circumvent reality nor offend any beliefs.**

 **Now that the prologue is out of the way, we can dive back in with our old friends in the Caribbean Sea, circa 1750s. A lot has happened since the last story, so there's a lot of surprises in store for you.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed. Please be sure to review or PM me if you have any comments, questions, etc., and I will get back to you as soon as possible.**

 **Stay classy!**

 **-Spent**


	2. Peace at Last

_Caribbean Sea, 1757_

 _Almost a year since the destruction of the Trident of the Poseidon_

* * *

The morning sun rose over the small island of Port Charles, cascading its glorious rays down upon the lighthouse that lay isolated from the town just past the tropical forests. The sun's light reflected brightly on the white paint of both the lighthouse and the cottage, as well as the faded red of the shingles on top of the residence. The gulls could be heard both in the sky and on the beach down the hill from the cottage.

There was a pier nearby when an old, Gothic-style ship remained anchored. It had seen many years of service, but the current "owner" as it were had not set foot on it in almost a year. With good reason; he had spent long enough aboard the _Flying Dutchman._

In fact, Will Turner had not gone out to sea once since the day he was freed. He preferred dry land anyway.

And the people that were on it.

Will lay slumbering in his bedchambers, peacefully relaxing in the early morning hours. As he rested his head against his pillow, he slept silently and without dreams. It was the most relaxed he had felt in a long time.

Unfortunately for him, his rest would not last forever.

A feminine hand was grasped onto a pillow, tugging it by its case. It was suspended over the sleeping Will, who did not suspect anything. Suddenly, without any warning, the hand released its grip of the pillow and it fell down onto Will's face.

"AGH!" Will called out, his eyes snapping open as he felt the pillow make contact with his face. He then heard the sounds of laughter, and Will, with the pillow still over him, rolled his eyes and grinned, knowing that it was only his darling wife that disturbed his slumber.

Removing the pillow, Will looked up to see Elizabeth Swann-Turner facing down towards him with a hand over her mouth, suppressing her laughter.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Elizabeth teased, and Will lightly shoved the pillow towards her. Sleepily, he complained, "What did you do that for? I was relaxed."

"You'd slept long enough," Elizabeth said, tracing her finger along his chest. Will brought his hand up and gently stroke his wife's, his attention on her the entire time.

"Oh really?" Will asked.

"Yes, really," Elizabeth replied, "Time to get up."

"You know," Will began, "I was just thinking..."

"Thinking?" Elizabeth begged the question.

"Yeah, thinking that... maybe we should just stay in bed today," Will suggested, "Not have to worry about attending to anyone. Or anything."

"I'd like that," Elizabeth said, lying down next to Will and placing her head against his shoulder. Will slipped his arm under Elizabeth's back and wrapped around her, holding her as close as he could.

They had spent twenty years apart from each other. Fate had dealt them a terrible hand, especially since their love was so pure. But now, they had been reunited for almost a year, and they made the absolute most with their time together.

"How's the little one?" Will asked, placing his arm that wasn't wrapped around Elizabeth onto her swollen abdomen.

Elizabeth smiled at the sensation of Will's hand, placing her hand on top of Will's over where their second child was growing.

"Sleeping inside me," Elizabeth told him, and Will couldn't help but find his wife so damn adorable at that moment. She was the kindest, smartest, most wonderful person he had ever known, and he was beyond proud to call her his wife and the mother of his children.

Sometimes, Will felt that he ended up cursed because he wasn't deserving of her.

"Of course, _they_ can sleep but I can't," Will joked, to which Elizabeth scoffed and shot back, "Hey, no fair. You're not the one that has to carry _him."_

Will chuckled as he listened to her emphasize that last word, and then asked, "What if... I want a girl?"

"You're not getting a girl," Elizabeth teased her husband.

Laughing, Will said, "Well, _I_ don't want to give Henry the competition for favorite son. Besides, he would adore a baby sister."

"And not a baby brother?" Elizabeth inserted, to which Will said, "Fair point."

"Ha-ha," Elizabeth laughed, seemingly victorious, "Although... I suppose a girl wouldn't be too bad."

Will grinned, and then leaned himself forward until his face was mere inches from his wife's belly.

"You hear that, darling?" Will began, "Mummy's on our side."

Elizabeth started laughing uncontrollably. Will, pleased he had won... whatever this was... leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her belly, hoping that the child within knew that their parents loved them very much.

Will pressed his nose against his wife, and he closes his eyes and gets lost in the moment. He cannot help but feel regret for all the years they had spent apart. This is what they should have been doing twenty years earlier, when they were younger and she was pregnant with Henry. Will didn't even know he had a son until the boy was ten years old. He was beyond grateful to have an opportunity to try again at being a father, but it was a thought that constantly nagged at him to no end.

Just then, Will remembered something, and leaning back he sighed in disappointment.

"What is it?" Elizabeth asked him.

"We can't stay in bed today," Will began in a defeated voice, "I just remembered I have to complete Mr. Downes' order today."

"I thought you had finished?" Elizabeth inquired, to which Will responded, "No, we still need to shoe the horses. Unfortunately it can't wait."

"Awww..." Elizabeth pouted.

"Don't worry, we'll be back home in a few hours time," Will smiled at her, brushing back the hair dangling over her forehead. He leaned in and kissed her head. Afterwards Elizabeth leaned forward and kissed her husband on the lips.

After breaking away, Will got up out of bed and started to get dressed, putting on his workman's clothes and tying his hair back. Grabbing his woolen tricorn, he stepped out of his bedroom and walked down the hallway to one of the adjacent bedrooms. He knocked on the door twice before opening it, and saw that his son Henry was still lying in bed.

"Come on, Henry. It's time to get up," Will spoke, and Henry groaned as he was woken up. He stretched his arms out and yawned, and then sat himself up and sleepily looked towards his father.

"G'morning, father," Henry sleepily said, trying hard to wake himself up.

"We have work to do, son," Will told him, "Get dressed and we'll leave in about fifteen minutes."

Henry moaned and then laid himself back down upon his pillow, uttering, "Alright."

Will then closed the door to give his son privacy, and then Henry slowly rolled out of bed. Rubbing his eyelids, he stood up and proceeded to get dressed for the day. After doing so, he was about to step outside his bedroom before something came to mind. Going back towards his bed, Henry kneeled down and pulled out a small trunk. Unlocking it, Henry saw his stacks of papers and sketches that he had had since he was a kid. He carefully lifted them up and set them aside, leaving the container empty except for one thing.

A small, orange jewel that looked to be glowing brightly.

Henry remembers how he acquired the jewel. It had been embedded into the Trident of Poseidon, the legendary weapon of the god of the seas that was used to control the wind and tide. The Trident itself had been destroyed almost a year ago, and this jewel was all that remained of the weapon. Henry remembers that day clearly like it were only yesterday, especially-

Henry stopped before he could think about _him._ What he had done to him... it lingered. Sometimes Henry would get flashes of a past that was not his own, seeing things that he had never seen as clear as day. It would invade his dreams while he slept sometimes, and Henry felt like there was a part of him that remained.

But Henry knew that was preposterous. Armando Salazar had been dead for almost a year, this time killed by mortal means as opposed to supernatural.

Brushing that out of his mind, he picked up the jewel, a thin layer of dust covering a portion of it. Rubbing it off, Henry eyed the jewel curiously. He had planned on telling his parents about it sooner, but so many things had happened at once that he did not know when it was the right time to bring it up. As a result, it remained a secret, and not a soul alive knew about it except for Henry alone.

He heard a knocking at his door, causing him to jump in surprise. His father's voice spoke up, saying, "Henry, are you ready?"

"Yes, father," Henry answered him, trying to act naturally.

"Your mother has breakfast ready. Come on down now," Will said, to which Henry replied, "Alright, just a second."

Henry looked back at the jewel. He didn't know what compelled him to look upon it. It was just a funny feeling he got.

Setting the jewel back inside the trunk, Henry then placed the papers overtop of it, locked the trunk, and then shoved it back under his bed. Getting up, he walked out of his bedroom and headed downstairs, where his grandfather was already sitting at the kitchen table.

"Morning, Henry," Bootstrap Bill Turner greeted his grandson with a smile.

"Morning, grandfather," Henry responded, sitting down next to him as his mother set down plates of eggs for the both of them. After eating, Will came down the stairs prepared to leave.

"Eat something, will you?" Elizabeth said to him, to which Will grabbed a large chunk of bread from the pantry, and said, "I shall."

Taking a bite, Will smiled while his mouth was filled with food, making Elizabeth laugh. Henry and Bill lightly chuckled as they finished off the remains of their breakfast.

Will and Elizabeth kissed each other's cheeks, and then started to head outside to the stables, Henry and Bill following behind him. The two of them got inside the carriage, while Will climbed up on top and took the reins.

 _"Hyah!"_ Will cracked the rains, causing the two horses attached to the carriage to start pulling forward. Soon enough, he was riding down the narrow dirt road away from the lighthouse and closer to the forest. Will went through the forest, and then exited out the other end where the road continued onto the town of Port Charles.

On the outskirts of the town, he saw a man hearding sheep across the grassy fields.

"Good morning to you, Mr. Turner!" the man greeted him, to which Will nodded and replied, "Mr. Wilkins."

Will continued on, greeted by more people as he went. Eventually, he stopped in the middle of town and parked his carriage. Stepping off, he looked at the building in front of him that read _W. Turner, Smithy._

Back to the grind, then.

Henry and Bill had exited the carriage, and followed after Will who opened the door to the blacksmith shop. Stepping inside, Will was still amazed that this place was his own. After all the years he spent apprenticing with Mr. Brown back in Port Royal, he was glad he finally got the chance to open up his own shop.

Truth be told, blacksmithing was what he always wanted to do. Pirating and ferrying souls to the next world were complications that impeded this dream.

But Will was free now. Nothing was stopping him.

After closing the door behind them, Bill went over to light the fire, while Will and Henry attended to shoeing the horses. Will was making sure that the horseshoes were properly crafted, while Henry would then nail them into the hooves of Mr. Downes' horses that he had left there.

After a while, Will stopped hammering the shoes on the anvil and looked over towards his son, who seemed unusually quiet as he attended to the horses.

"Something the matter, son?" Will asked, concerned.

"Nothing's the matter, sir," Henry said, and he continued with his task. Will, however, was not convinced. He remembers when he was his age; he was also rather impetuous in his youth.

"You know you can talk to me about anything, Henry," Will said, "What's bothering you?"

"Like I said, nothing," Henry replied somewhat sternly, hammering the shoes into the front hooves of the horse he was attending to.

But he wasn't being entirely truthful with his father, because he was troubled some. He just didn't know exactly what it was.

"Well... if it were anything, I guess..." Henry trailed off, "... I guess it would be Carina."

Henry smiled when he thought of her. Carina was the woman who had helped him find the Trident of Poseidon using the diary of Galileo Galilei. Because of her, Henry had been able to set his father free of his curse. And in the time he knew her, he had grown to care for her greatly.

Will understood what he meant, and then said, "You miss her, don't you?"

Henry still thought fondly about her often, even though they hadn't seen each other for almost a year. He had been home with his family helping his father run the smithy, while she had been away trying to live up to the legacy left by her late father.

"I do," Henry admitted. Their adventure seemed like so long ago that Henry hoped to see her again. Carina had promised him that they would see each other again one day, but he did not know when that would be.

Will smiled while he listened to his son speak, and knew that he cared about the girl as much as much as he did for Elizabeth. He was glad to see that his son was in love, for it was the most wonderful and terrifying force on this earth. Far greater than any treasure or curse could ever hold.

As the Turners continued to work in the smithy, content with their lives for the time being, Henry wondered what Carina was doing now.

He hoped that she hadn't gotten herself into too much trouble.

But knowing her bloodline, she most certainly had.

* * *

 **A/N: Here's the second chapter. I wrote this rather quickly, didn't I? Anywho, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. There's more to come soon enough but I cannot say for certain when that will be.**

 **So this chapter was basically a snippet of the lives of the Turner family after the events of the last story. Not exactly plot-heavy, but I felt it was important to showcase the domesticity that they all deserve. Which, undoubtedly, will be interrupted by the happenings of the upcoming story. Past and present will collide in an extraordinary way, and you will not want to miss it.**

 **Next time, we shall visit some other old friends. For now, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please be sure to review or PM me if you wish to share your thoughts.**

 **Thank you all once again and stay classy!**

 **\- Spent**


	3. Captain Sparrow

It was evening, and the sun had fallen into the sea. The pitch-black skies held nothing except the stars that glistened, but it was much too dark for them to have an effect on visibility.

On an island not far from Hispaniola, there lay a massive Spanish naval fort that had long been abandoned. There were noticeable cracks in the foundation, making it ill-suited for military use. For this, the navies of the world stayed as far away as possible for there was nothing of interest to them there. Or so it seemed.

The fort was used as a hideout for gangs of buccaneers to take refuge in over the years. Currently, it was housing a particularly nasty gang with a penchant for murder and mayhem. They made do with the resources at their disposal and used the fort as a launching point for their numerous raids. The torches all around the fort were lit, thus providing the outlaws there some visibility for themselves.

On one of the bridges, a group of these outlaws was marching towards the north wing of the fortifications. All of them carried firearms as they stood in orderly lines at either side. In the center, two of them were pulling an individual by their arms across the bridge, their knees dragging alone the stone surface. Long, dark hair obscured their face from view, and the person made no noise as they continued to drag them along towards the large wooden doors at the other side of the bridge. The doors were then opened by more buccaneers on the inside, and they dragged their prisoner inside. Once everyone else was in the fort, they closed the door behind them.

In the south wing of the fort, the leader of the gang sat in an office that probably had belonged to the commander when the Spanish still occupied it. He sat back in his chair with a bottle of grog in hand and a stern expression on his face. He had heard the commotion earlier, and was frustrated that he had a problem to deal with now. After taking a hefty swig of the grog, he set the bottle on his desk and rubbed his temples for a brief moment.

The doors to his office opened, and his second-in-command stepped in, holding a number of items under his arm.

"Silas," he addressed the man sitting at the desk, "something 'as... 'appened."

"I'm aware of that," Silas said, sounding irritated, "Might I ask what it was?"

"Someone tried to sneak into the fort," the second explained, "Caught them poking around just outside the treasure vault. I think they was 'ere to rob us."

"You don't say?" Silas asked rhetorically.

"They was carrying this," the second told him, and he placed a worn cutlass down on the desk. Silas did not pay too much mind to it. It was a common sword, nothing more.

The second then placed down another item on the desk, considerably smaller than the first. It was a compass, black with golden lining. Silas was about to dismiss it at first before he redirected his attention towards it, realizing that he had seen this compass before.

Finally, the second placed a faded leather tricorn hat upon the table. Silas recognized this hat immediately, his eyes widening in surprise. That cinched his suspicions.

"Where is he now?" Silas asked, looking up from the items on his desk to his man.

"Actually, sir," the man said, "it's a she."

* * *

Silas, wearing his coat over his shoulders, pushed the doors open that led to the bridge. Escorted by some of his men, he made his way over to the north wing, determination in every step he took. The doors were opened for him and he stepped inside. Eventually, he made his way around the numerous hallways until he came across the holding cells.

"She's just over there," his second told him, and Silas walked over to where he was referring to.

The woman was sitting inside one of the cells with her back against the wall. Her arms were chained behind her back as she held her knees close to her chest. She kept her head down, her dark hair still covering her face. She was wearing clothing that seemed most unbecoming of a woman, including a faded white shirt with the sleeves partially rolled up, a dark brown vest, greyish-tan pants, faded black leather boots, and a weapons belt with an empty scabbard.

One of Silas' men removed his coat from his shoulders, and he walked closer to her cell. Another of his men unlocked the door and pulled it open, and Silas slowly stepped inside. Each of his footsteps made an audible thudding sound as he neared their prisoner.

The woman kept her head down, and Silas eyed her peculiarly, curious as to who she was and what she was doing in his fort.

Getting down on one knee, Silas' head was parallel with the woman's, and he finally spoke, "You're a long way from home, lass."

The woman kept silent, which only seemed to frustrate Silas further.

"Seems my boys caught you snooping around our vaults," Silas said, to which the woman finally replied and curtly said, "Took them long enough."

"I would advise you to remember your place here," Silas warned her.

"And what would that be, kind sir?" she asked, her voice suggesting mockery.

"As our captive, of course," Silas explained, "What else would you call your current... _predicament?"_

"Oh, I dunno," she responded, "Inconvenience, annoyance, bloody waste of my time, take your pick."

"Why don't you look me in the eye and say that, 'fore I gouge out yours with my knife?" Silas threatened, to which the woman slowly lifted up her head and some of her hair fell back, revealing one of her two ocean-blue eyes.

"Of course," she said, "Time is a precious commodity, which you have now just wasted. Satisfied?"

Silas grumbled, starting to get irritated himself at the girl's mannerisms. He decided that now was as good a time as any to ask the questions he wanted to ask her.

"My men took some items off of you, and I noticed something rather peculiar about them," Silas began, "Where did you get them?"

"Call them... an inheritance, if you will," the woman remained elusive, much to Silas' annoyance.

"You're a thief is what you are," Silas reprimanded her.

"Oh please, aren't we all?" the woman shot back, lifting her head up and showing the whole of her face to him. She was rather beautiful, with the only visible imperfection was a miniscule scar that ran under her left eye.

Silas took a moment to observe her features, certain he had seen her before.

"I've seen wanted posters of you," Silas said, "You're Carina Smyth, the witch."

"I prefer Carina Sparrow, the pirate, if you don't mind," she proudly stated.

Silas raised an eyebrow in confusion for a moment, and then he started to laugh heartily.

"Oh, posh!" he told her, finding her statement amusing.

"You don't believe me?" Carina asked of him, and Silas got up off his knee and turned to face his men just outside the cell.

"Did you hear that, boys? The girl here claims she's the spawn of that lout, Jack Sparrow!" Silas told them, and his men started hollering in laughter.

Carina merely sighed and rolled her eyes.

Silas redirected his attention towards Carina and got back down on his knee. He then said, "The only way I can imagine that bastard having children is by making bastards of his own."

"There's a lot you don't know about Jack, then," Carina told him, her voice slightly tense as she looked away from Silas.

"Then again..." Silas said, observing her features more closely, "I _do_ see the likeness. Huh."

Silas then noticed that Carina was tapping her right leg rapidly, which gave him the notion that she had more to tell.

"So, you'd heard about what we had in out vaults then?" Silas asked of her, and Carina continued to look away from him.

"I sure did. Why else would I be here of all places?" Carina replied, and Silas laughed at her again.

"Well bad luck for you, lass," Silas explained, "It was never in the vaults to begin with. It's in my office, along with all of your effects."

Carina remained silent.

"Speaking of which, why did Jack send you in with his precious valuables?" Silas inquired, "Did he hope that he could fool me into thinking that you were him?"

"Jack didn't send me," Carina told him.

"And why not?" Silas asked.

"He's dead," she bluntly replied, "Been dead for almost a year now."

Silas paused for a moment, letting Carina's words sink in.

"Good riddance, I'd say," Silas scoffed, "That scoundrel had caused me no shortage of trouble. May his soul be damned for all of eternity."

Carina turned to face Silas again, and her lip twitched slightly.

"What time is it?" she asked him, her voice strained.

"I'm sorry?" Silas asked, confused. Carina merely replied, "You should be. What is the time?"

Silas, perplexed by this request, turned to his men behind him and said, "Any of you got the time?"

His second-in-command pulled out a pocketwatch, and he said, "It's almost nine o'clock at night."

Carina started to chuckle uncontrollably, and Silas slowly turned his head towards her to see her delighted.

"What's so funny?" he asked her.

"Four things," Carina began, "Firstly, I did not know what it is that you thought I knew you had, so thank you for telling me there was something valuable in your office."

Silas' mouth hung open, trying to comprehend what she just said. Once he finally understood what she was saying, he cursed under his breath.

"Secondly, thank you for explaining where my effects are as well," Carina continued, "That'll make searching for them a lot less time-consuming."

Silas raised an eyebrow, and then said, "And how do you expect to do that while you're my prisoner?"

"I'm not finished," Carina butted in, "Thirdly, I want to thank you for giving me the time. I was wondering how much longer I was going to have to wait."

Silas leaned in closer to her, his nose almost touching hers.

"What are you playing at, girl?" he snarled.

"Fourthly..." Carina paused, and a smirk formed upon her face, "...made you look."

 _BOOM!_

There was a loud crash, and there were terrified screams sounding out from around the fort. Soon, more thunderous booms sounded out, as the masonry of the fort exploded with an impressive force. Silas stood up and looked to his men in the hallway, who were starting to panic.

"What's happening!?" one of the men asked, and another replied, "We're under attack!"

Silas was about to turn back around to interrogate Carina further. But before he could move a muscle, Carina had stood up and hopped up, bringing her chained arms from behind her under her legs. In another instant, she wrapped the chain binding her arms together around Silas' neck.

"AGH!" Silas called out, and his men were alarmed. They drew their firearms and pointed them towards the inside of the cell.

"Nobody do anything stupid, now!" Carina warned them, as the sounds of cannon fire raged around them, "Let's all keep are heads, shall we?"

"What do you want!?" the second-in-command demanded, pointing his pistol out towards them.

"If you'd be so kind as to open the cell door, I would be much obliged," Carina said with a sinister grin.

Reluctantly, the men opened up the cell door, and Carina nudged her elbow into Silas' back, prompting him to walk forward slowly. Once they were outside the cell, Carina made sure to keep her back as close to the wall as possible and started to back away from the outlaws.

"I'll be having that pistol as well," Carina addressed the second-in-command. He was hesitant at first, to which Silas said, "Just do what she says!"

The second rolled his eyes, and then he flipped his pistol around. Stepping forward slowly, he held it out to Carina, who snatched it quickly from his grasp and started to point it at Silas' head.

"Thank you, good sir. Now..." Carina addressed Silas now, "Where would your office be located again?"

"Down to the depths with you!" Silas shouted at her, to which Carina replied by thumbing back the hammer of the pistol she now held.

"You want to try telling me again?" Carina asked calmly.

"Alright, alright!" Silas relented, "It's in the south wing of the fort, third floor!"

"That wasn't so hard, now was it?" Carina said with a smirk. Barbossa's training had paid off.

"Who the hell do you think you are!?" Silas demanded, struggling against the metal chain wrapped around his throat and the gun pressed against his temple.

"I already told you," Carina said, continuing to back away from Silas' men as they slowly approached. Looking towards them, she said "My name is Sparrow. _Captain_ Carina Sparrow."

With that, she lifted her arms from around Silas, and pushed him forward into the crowd of buccaneers in the narrow hallway. After he collided against them and they all went tumbling to the ground, Carina took off running the other way.

"After her!" Silas barked at his men, getting to his feet. Just as he and his men were about to give chase after her, a thunderous boom sounded out as a cannonball came crashing through the hallway before them, crumbling the walls in their vicinity. Silas and his men had to shield themselves from the blast, and Carina used their disorientation as a distraction as she made her way to the south side of the fort.

* * *

In the black of night, flashes of light could be seen coming out of the darkness, followed by deafening booms that smelled of smoke and sulfur. In between when shots were being fired, it was impossible to make out the ship that was firing them, but the ship was there alright. It used its blackened, burnt appearance to its advantage as it approached the fort undetected, and they had the element of surprise as they shelled the gang of outlaws.

The _Black Pearl_ was laying a barrage into them with everything they had. Sixteen cannons each on the port and starboard sides was an impressive, if not excessive, amount of firepower.

Pacing the top deck was the first mate, Joshamee Gibbs. He walked back and forth along the starboard side of the _Pearl,_ observing the fort as the pirates aboard continued their assault.

"Watch the muzzle flash from the north tower!" Gibbs called out, observing that the buccaneers inside were preparing to counterattack.

Pintel and Ragetti, two pirates that were nigh inseparable from each other, were reloading their own cannon at the same time that Murtogg and Mullroy, two former Royal Marines, were reloading theirs.

"So..." Ragetti began, loading in another cannonball, "... what're the odds the captain's still alive?"

"Fairly high, I'd wager," Murtogg responded, loading in the gunpowder, "What with the cannonfire and all."

"Has it occurred to you," Mullroy began, "that this barrage could kill her, given that she's still inside?"

"That is if she hasn't been killed already," Ragetti responded, the thought now crossing his mind.

"When have these things ever been a problem for us?" Pintel inserted as he rammed the ball in, "If she dies, that's just the way it goes sometimes."

"That don't sound mighty good," Murtogg said.

"Well, _I_ don't want to be the one that kills her with a cannonball. That would be tantamount to mutiny," Mullroy argued.

"You suggesting we stop?" Ragetti asked.

"Of course not," Mullroy said, "Just voicing my concerns is all."

"Well, there ain't nothin' to be concerned with," Pintel began, "because dyin' is a thing that happens."

"Hold a moment... what are we talking about again?" Murtogg asked, "Do we want to kill our captain or something?"

Ragetti was about to respond, but found himself at a loss for words. There had been a point to their conversation but it had gone back and forth enough that they all seemed to lose their train of thought.

"How about we make bets?" Pintel suggested. Before anyone could respond, Gibbs called out from behind them and said, "Quit the jabbering, you dogs! They're firing back!"

The pirates were brought out of their little diversion to see that the cannons around the fort started to fire towards them. Making haste, they fired back, and Gibbs rushed his way back up to the wheel and tried to maneuver the _Pearl_ so that the cannons couldn't locate them by their muzzle flashes.

* * *

Carina rushed through the complex of the hallways, dodging past obstacles in her way while trying to evade Silas and his goons at her heels. She turned a corner and heard a gunshot ring out, striking the wall near where she had run.

"You'll not escape us, girl!" Silas shouted from behind her, but Carina was focused only on her own speed. She had to evade them long enough to get into the commander's office.

Carina neared a pair of wooden doors, but just before she was about to rush through them, two men stepped out from around the left and right corners holding their muskets.

"Hold, you!" the one on her left shouted.

"EEP!" Carina shrieked at the sight of their weapons. She tried to slow down and skid to a halt, but she knew that if she stopped right here and right now then Silas would surely kill her.

Quickly, Carina slid onto the ground, and not a half a second later the two brigands fired their muskets, the shots going over her head down the hallway. Seeing her chance, Carina leapt up off the ground and started to charge at the two. The one on the left tried to swing his empty weapon at her head, but she ducked under it and rolled. Getting back up on her feet, she saw the other man try to strike at her, but she reached out quickly and snatched his musket from his grasp. Using the weapon as a club, Carina swung it at the man's head and knocked him out cold. She quickly spun around and blocked an incoming blow from the remaining man, and after parrying the attack struck him on the head as well, falling down onto the stone floor next to his friend.

Carina smirked, pleased with her prowess, but the smile disappeared from her face as she heard the sounds of Silas' men rushing down from the way she came. Dropping the musket, she rushed for the doors, opened them, and closed them behind her. They fired a few shots towards her direction, hitting nothing but the wooden door.

Carina turned around, hoping she had bought herself a few moments before she was caught and killed. She turned around and looked out towards the bridge that led to the south wing of the fort and was prepared to cross it.

Before she could however, multiple cannon shots from the _Pearl_ came crashing through, destroying the bridge's center. The gap was too wide to jump.

"Oh great," Carina complained, and tried to look for an alternate scenario out of this. Looking ahead, she saw that there was a long line of rope suspended above her head, leading from the north tower to the south tower. She followed the rope with her eyes and saw that it was part of a pulley system that was attached to the top of the north tower. Looking down the rope, she saw the barrel of a cannon suspended in midair, and looking down the opposite rope she saw it come down to a platform near where she was standing. The rope was being held down by a rather sizable sandbag.

Carina smiled. This would do just nicely.

Suddenly, the doors burst open, and Carina rushed over to the side next to the platform before she would be riddled with bullets. Standing on the platform, she pulled out the pistol she had acquired from her belt and pointed it outwards as Silas' men surrounded her, presenting their firearms.

Carina quickly moved the barrel of her gun from man to man, carefully weighing her odds.

Silas stepped forward in front of his men, and Carina pointed her pistol towards him.

"You've got nowhere to go, girl," Silas snarled, "Just give it up. You've only got the one shot, and there's dozens of us."

Carina decided she was done stalling them.

"Where do you think you can go from here, _Captain Sparrow?"_ Silas mocked her, to which Carina merely said, "Up."

Quickly, she directed her pistol towards the point where the sandbag was tied to the rope, and pulled the trigger. The shot ripped through the rope, and before it could ascend, Carina dropped her weapon and grabbed hold of the bottom of the rope.

"WHOOOOAAAAA!" she screamed out as Silas and his men watched her ascend on the rope. Only when Carina had passed it did the men below see the cannon barrel begin to drop towards them.

"MOVE!" Silas shouted, moving back behind his men. The cannon crashed against a few of the outlaws, pinning them to the ground as they elicited moans of pain.

Carina had ascended high enough on the rope she had made it to the top of the north tower. She had no time to celebrate for more of Silas' men were atop manning the cannons and fighting back against the _Pearl._

One of the men saw her, and said, "Hey, you! Stop!"

Before they had time to draw their weapons, she turned around on the ledge she was standing on and saw the rope that led to the south tower. It was descending downward towards the third floor, and Carina saw yet another opportunity.

She threw the slack of the chain binding her wrists over the rope, and grabbed onto it at either end. Without hesitation, she leapt off the edge, holding onto the chain for dear life as she began to zipline down the rope.

"Shoot her!" Silas called out from below, and his men started to shoot at Carina as she soared over the gap between them, narrowly avoiding their shots. Eventually, one of them managed to get lucky, and shot the rope that she was descending on.

"AAAAAHHH!" Carina screamed, feeling the rope snap from behind her. She let go of the chain and grabbed onto the rope, swinging at the bottom of the pendulum as she neared the south tower. She crashed through one of the open windows, colliding against a large, old dining table. The table broke from the force, and Carina rolled onto the floor.

Picking herself up off the floor, Carina shook her head and uttered, "... Ow."

Standing up, Carina started to sneak her way around the south ward, being careful not to run into any more of Silas' men. Fortunately for her, they were occupied with fending off the _Pearl,_ but in this darkness they had no chance of success against a ship like that.

Apart from the bridge blowing up, this was all going according to plan so far. She just hope she would get what she came for. Originally the plan was to break into the fort to steal the gold the gang had in their vaults, but she was intrigued with what Silas might have in his office that was so important. Besides, her possessions were in there so it wasn't really a diversion from the plan anyway.

Carefully making her way up the stairs, Carina snuck up to the third floor and silently slipped inside of the commander's office. She looked onto the desk and saw that her sword, her compass, and her hat were all laying there. Relieved she had her possessions back, Carina sheathed her sword, tied her compass to her belt, and grabbed hold of her hat.

She started to search the office extensively, turning over everything she could to try to find it. Hopefully the attack of the _Pearl_ would buy her enough time to find it.

Looking through Silas' desk drawers, all she could find were common maps and old ledgers. Nothing looked particularly valuable, until she had pulled all of the papers out of the bottom-left drawer and saw something most peculiar lying inside. A small, rolled-up scroll.

Squinting, Carina reached in and pulled the scroll out. She could find nothing else of any particular value, so she assumed this had to be what Silas was talking about. Realizing that she was running out of time, Carina tucked the scroll away and decided she would look at it later. Right now she had to find a way out of her shackles. Fortunately for her, she saw the armory near the vaults, so she could kill two birds with one stone.

Right as she was about to walk out of the office, Carina stopped in place when she looked to the desk again and saw that Silas had left his bottle of grog. Smirking, she reached over and picked up the bottle with her free hand, and she started to gulp down copious amounts of the alcohol at once. Once she had finished with it, she tossed the bottle to the side and it broke against the floor. Carina shook her head so she could properly get her bearings, and she felt like she could take on the whole world at that moment.

Carina crept out of the office with her possessions and the scroll, heading down to the lower levels between the north and south sides of the fort where she knew the armory was. After dodging past the outlaws that were looking for her, she snuck down into the armory and saw an assortment of weaponry and powder barrels littering the room.

Carina decided she would need something heavy and hard to snap her chains, so she sat her hat down upon a nearby table and walked over to a weapons' rack where an assortment of axes were. Taking one off the rack, Carina then pondered how exactly she was going to do this. She tried sawing the chain with the axe head, but to no avail. She then tried swinging at the chain, but realized she did not have the armlength to exert enough force against it. She considered perhaps taking a pistol and trying to shoot the chain, but there was the very real possibility that she would end up shooting herself.

"Now what am I going to do?" Carina spoke aloud to herself.

"Indeed, lass," a deep, menacing voice sounded out suddenly, causing Carina to jump in surprise. She looked over towards where she heard the voice, and quickly raised the axe she held, ready for an attack.

Out from the dark corner of the room stepped out a large, muscular man brandishing an axe of his own, which in Carina's eyes looked much sharper than the one she was holding.

"Who are you?" Carina demanded.

"My friends call me Goliath," he responded coldly. Somehow, Carina didn't doubt him. He had to be seven feet tall at least.

"Look," Carina began, eager to avoid a fight, "I have no quarrel with you, so if you'll just let me go-"

"You're not going anywhere," Goliath told her, "Boss-man said the only way you're leaving this fort is in a coffin."

"Well, I can't exactly let that happen," Carina said, feeling cocky at that moment. Perhaps it was the alcohol talking, "You see, my crew are expecting me back soon, and they will be _very_ displeased if I'm not there."

"Come on, girl," Goliath mocked, "You really think you have a chance against me?"

"To be honest, I've faced worse than you," Carina said, reaffirming the grip on her axe. There was a lot of truth to her statement she didn't let on.

Goliath chuckled, and then said, "Take your shot."

After hesitating for a moment, Carina charged towards Goliath with the axe raised and was prepared to strike down on him. The giant, however, sidestepped at the last second, and Carina brought her axe down upon the ground instead. Stumbling for a second, Carina turned around to see that Goliath had a grin upon his face as he stepped back.

"Is that all you got?" he mocked, and Carina's temper started to flare up. Lifting the axe, she tried striking at him from the side, but Goliath stepped away again as the axe cut through nothing but air. Before she could try again, Goliath kicked her in the back and she fell to the ground with a thud, losing her grip on the axe in the process. Goliath strolled over and picked up the other axe before Carina could pull herself up, and then walked over towards the open doors that led into the armory. Shutting the doors, he wedged Carina's axe between the handles so that no one could get in or out.

Carina turned herself around and saw Goliath walking slowly towards her with his axe in hand. She panicked, for she was still shackled and now she had no weapon to defend herself with. She tried scooting back, but Goliath was overtop of her now.

He swung the axe down, but Carina rolled to the side before it made contact with her body. Quickly, she regained her stance as Goliath came at her again. He tried to decapitate her, but she ducked under his blow as the axe embedded itself into the brick wall near where they were standing. Seeing what she thought was an opportunity, Carina came out behind Goliath, charged at him, and lifted both of her legs in an attempt to drop-kick him.

Unfortunately, Goliath hardly budged from her kick, and Carina dropped to the floor again, her arms falling over her head.

Finally pulling his axe out of the wall, Goliath turned around and saw Carina on the ground once more. He took a moment to observe his axe, and saw his careless swinging had damaged the weapon's blade. One more careless hit and it would break. He decided he was done toying with the girl.

Raising up the axe, Carina started to panic. The giant began to swing down towards her head, and Carina instinctively kicked forward at his crotch. Goliath lurched with a slight whimper, and his attack was knocked off balance. The axe head then came crashing down against the ground, and not only had it missed Carina's head by mere inches, but it had broken the chain that had held her arms together.

From the ground, Carina looked up at the wooden axe handle sticking above her out of the ground, and she absolutely could not believe her luck. She looked up at Goliath, who had a combined expression of fury and confusion. He pulled the axe handle out of the ground, but the head became detached and he was left with little but a wooden stick.

Carina grinned as she got to her feet, feeling that her arms were liberated from her chains. She stood up facing Goliath, who had cast his useless axe handle to the side. Drawing out her sword, Carina figured she could make short work of this guy now.

Swinging forward with the sword, Goliath caught her arm right before he could be struck. He appeared to do it with relative ease.

The grin quickly vanished from Carina's face, and Goliath brought her in and headbutted her.

Carina stumbled back, pressing her free hand to the front of her skull. _That_ had hurt.

She had to time to dwell on it, for Goliath started to scream with anger as he lowered himself and pointed his head in her direction. He then suddenly took off charging towards her, and Carina rolled out of the way before he could collide against her.

Goliath crashed head-first into a large, long crate, and Carina had backed away while she watched him struggle to pull his head out. Eventually, he did, and the crate came tumbling onto the ground as he eyed the girl again. Then, they both redirected their attention towards the crate he knocked over, and saw the lid had popped off, revealing that the crate was filled with at least a dozen muskets.

Looking up to Carina again, a nasty smile formed at his face, and Carina looked to be panicking again.

Goliath reached down and picked up one of the muskets, and Carina quickly sheathed her sword and took off running from where she was. She narrowly avoided the bullet that Goliath had fired.

Dropping the musket, Goliath picked up another and pulled the hammer back. Carina knew she had to come up with a strategy and soon. She looked around for another way out, but saw the door he boarded up was the only way out. She looked up above her and saw nothing but rafters above her. Carina figured she could at least try avoiding his shots until he ran out of ammunition. It was risky, but what choice did she have?

Dodging another gunshot, Carina climbed up on top of the powder barrels and crates so she could make it to the rafters; it would be harder for Goliath to shoot her while she was up there. While climbing, her foot slipped and she saw the powder barrel she had been standing on roll down towards the blocked door.

A devilish idea came to her mind.

She climbed up onto the rafters, another shot barely missing her. Goliath picked up another musket and took aim, but Carina jumped from one beam to another, stepping as quickly as she could to throw the giant's shots off balance.

Eventually, she had dodged enough shots that Goliath only had one pre-loaded musket left. Carina saw her chance, and figured it was now or never. She swung down from the rafters and kicked Goliath in the face, sending the gun flying from his grasp. Dropping down onto the floor, Carina rushed over to the musket and pulled back the hammer. Before she could execute her plan, Goliath had seized her from behind, pulling on the stock and barrel of the gun against Carina's throat.

"AAGH!" Carina shrieked as she felt the gun pressed against her neck. Goliath then pulled the both of them down onto the ground, trying to break her neck.

In that moment, Carina forgot where she was. Suddenly she was taken back in her own mind. Almost a year ago.

She saw her father, standing in front of her, holding out his pistol as he tried to save her. She felt the Trident of Poseidon pressed against her neck by that Spanish bastard. She remembers how scared and powerless she felt then.

 _No... not this time._

Her mind snapping back to the present, Carina wrestled against the weapon pressed against her by Goliath. Summoning what strength she had, she hit the back of her head against the giant's nose, and she thought she heard a crunching sound. Goliath hollered, and his grip loosened on the gun. Seizing her opportunity, Carina took control of the gun and pointed it at the powder barrel next to the door.

She pulled the trigger, and the gunshot struck the barrel, causing the gunpowder inside to ignite and explode. The force of the explosion blew the door right off its hinges, and sent fiery debris all over. Carina dropped the musket and shielded her eyes as the explosion rang out. Once the initial explosion was done, she looked behind her to see that burning debris had landed next to the powder barrels inside the room.

"Uh-oh," Carina exclaimed, realizing she had to get out of there now.

Getting up off of Goliath, she rushed for the table where she set her hat down and grabbed it, and then ran out towards the hallway. When she did, there was a tremendous explosion behind her, and fire and smoke consumed the armory. The fire and explosions continued to spread, so Carina knew that trying to go for the vaults now was a lost cause.

Hat in hand, she started rushing through the fort just as the powder barrels started a chain reaction throughout the entire complex. Rushing upstairs, she heard the panicked cries of the gang, and knew that it was time to go. Carina rushed around looking for the nearest open window so she could jump out of the fort and into the sea. Eventually, she came across a room on the second floor and saw there was an open window. Rushing towards it, she suddenly heard a familiar shout from behind her!

"She's escaping!" Silas' voice boomed, and Carina rushed towards the window ledge. She stopped when she saw what a long way down it was.

Looking back behind her, she knew she didn't have any other choice. Closing her eyes, she jumped out of the window and started screaming as she fell, eventually colliding against the sea in a tremendous splash.

There was another tremendous explosion, and the south tower suddenly collapsed in a fiery blaze. The fort had been, for lack of a better term, obliterated.

Carina splashed up from under the water, taking in a deep breath of air as she looked up behind her and saw the burning fort.

"Mary, Mother of God," Carina uttered. She was beyond glad she had made it out alive.

Looking out towards the open water, she saw a small rowboat coming towards them. Squinting, Carina saw that it was Mr. Cotton rowing towards her, with his parrot perched on his shoulder. Rowing up next to her, Cotton looked over the side and extended his arm. Carina took it and he pulled her into the boat.

"Bloody good timing, Mr. Cotton," Carina complimented, setting her hat down and wringing the seawater out from her hair.

"RAWK! Any port in a storm!" Cotton's parrot squawked.

"I really do enjoy our talks together," Carina dryly responded, "You're a great conversationalist."

Cotton just sat there in mute silence, holding no strong opinions one way or the other.

Carina picked up her hat from the bottom of the boat and started to shake the water out of it. After doing so, she fitted it atop of her head, and Cotton began rowing.

"All things considered, that could've gone a lot worse," Carina remarked, not even seeing at that moment the north tower also collapsing, "Now let's get back to the _Pearl."_

* * *

The boat was then hauled back onto the _Pearl,_ and Carina and Cotton stepped out. Pintel came over and wrapped Carina's faded forest-green coat over her shoulders.

Gibbs walked over to her, and said, "Glad to see you safe. But what of the vaults?"

"There were... complications," Carina explained, gesturing over to the burning fort.

There were audible sighs coming from some of the crew, and Carina hoped to turn their mood by saying, "Hey, chances are the fort isn't completely destroyed. Once the fire dies down I'm sure it'll be safe to venture insi-"

 _BOOM!_

There was another tremendous explosion, and some of the crew ducked for cover as they saw fire rise up out of the fort.

Gibbs slowly turned his head towards Carina, and then she said, "On second thought... if anyone wants to go inside, be my guest, but I definitely would not recommend it."

No one moved, for they knew it would be pointless to try to retrieve the gold inside now.

"In my defense, though," Carina began, "I would've made it to the vaults sooner had _somebody_ not destroyed the bridge."

She looked around at her crew surrounding her, each with nervous expressions on their faces like they were all guilty.

"They did it," Murtogg said, pointing with his thumb over to Pintel and Ragetti.

 _"Us!?"_ Pintel argued, "You were the ones who done that!"

"That's not true," Mullroy said, "You mentioned that thing about bets earlier!"

"Don't mean we did it!" Ragetti argued.

The bickering persisted for a few more moments, and it was interrupted by a loud gunshot. Everyone turned their heads around to see Marty the dwarf standing near the bow holding a smoking blunderbuss in his grasp.

"Thank you, Marty," Carina told him, and redirected her attention towards the rest of the crew, "Point being, we have no gold. Fortunately, however, we have this."

Carina pulled the scroll off her person, and held it up for all to see.

"What's that?" one of the crew asked.

"Something that was described by the gang leader as being a precious valuable," Carina explained, "I nicked it from his office during the chaos. Strangely enough he thought it was more valuable than the gold."

"What is it, then?" Ragetti asked, curious.

"That will be something that our captain will ponder inside of her quarters, gents," Gibbs said, forcing a smile and placing her hands on Carina's shoulders as he escorted her towards her cabin. Carina raised an eyebrow at this action.

"Do we have a heading at least?" Marty asked.

"Yeah, uh..." Carina started, "Tortuga. Let's head for Tortuga. Heave-to and take in sail."

With that, the crew dispersed and headed to their stations, and Gibbs and Carina stepped inside the cabin.

"What was that all about?" Carina questioned the man who had served at her father's side dutifully for years.

"I know you have the best of intentions in mind. In fact, that's why we made you captain in the first place," Gibbs began, "But you have to understand that these boys have been doing this a lot longer than you have. If they see an opportunity to score big, they will. They've been itching for one for a long time."

"What're you trying to say, Mr. Gibbs?" Carina asked.

"What I'm saying is that you want to play your cards closer to the chest, Carina," Gibbs said, "Surely Captain Barbossa taught you that much."

"Yes... yes he did," Carina remarked, remembering the lessons that Hector Barbossa had taught her so she could be an effective pirate captain.

"Well, I'll leave you to it then," Gibbs said, and with that he exited the cabin.

With that, Carina exhaled sharply through her mouth and walked over to her personal quarters. She didn't really change much except for adding a telescope near the windows, which she would use for stargazing in her spare time. Near it she had a number of star charts that had previously been absent from the _Pearl._

Walking over towards her desk, she picked up a bottle of rum she had sitting there and drank from it. She had been drinking more than she usually had lately, and it was unclear whether it was just a new habit or if it was genetic.

Pulling the bottle away from her lips, Carina turned around and looked at the wall to her left. Here lay the only other new addition to the cabin.

It was a large oil painting of Captain Jack Sparrow, her father. She had found it in Nassau at an auction, and nearly bankrupted the _Pearl's_ treasury paying for it. But the price didn't matter to Carina, for it was worth more than the sum of gold she had paid for it. She couldn't imagine Jack staying still long enough to have his portrait painted, but she guessed he must've for here it was (rumor was in Nassau he did it to absolve a debt he owed to a Dutch sugar smuggler).

It was scary good to Carina how richly detailed it was. Whoever had done it had done a fantastic job of capturing his features.

But nothing would compare to the real thing.

"Wish you were here, father," Carina spoke aloud to the portrait, hoping that somehow Jack could hear her from beyond the grave. She still missed him even if she only knew him for a brief period of time. They had met by pure chance on their quest for the Trident of Poseidon, and only in the end did she learn that he was her long-lost father.

When her life was in danger, Jack sacrificed himself to save Carina, as the ultimate act of love. He had perished from his actions, and was claimed by the sea. A fitting end for a pirate, no doubt, but one that Carina wishes could be undone.

Carina couldn't dwell on the past; there was nothing she could do to change it now.

Walking behind her desk, she sat down and pulled out the scroll she had taken from Silas' office. She hoped that the water had not damaged the parchment that much, and she unrolled it to see what it would tell her. There were no words, but a picture then met her eyes.

It was a large, circular object covered in an ornate pattern. In the center there lay a woman's face, and instead of hair there looked to be snakes coming from her head, ensnaring like curls. At either end there looked to be angel wings inked into the paper.

Beneath the picture of this object, a single word was written: _Aegis._

Carina was puzzled, unsure of what this all meant. What exactly had she found now?

She didn't know, but the more she thought about it, she thought she might know who would.

Setting the scroll down, Carina walked out of her cabin and called up to Gibbs who was at the wheel.

"Mr. Gibbs!" Carina called to him.

"Aye, captain?" Gibbs responded.

"Forget Tortuga for now," Carina said, "It's time we visit an old friend."

* * *

 **A/N: Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed this action-packed chapter. Basically it's a summary of what Carina's been up to for the past year since the end of the last story. Next time we'll get back to the Turner family and see what happens when their peace is suddenly interrupted by an old acquaintance.**

 **Please be sure to review or PM me if you have any thoughts you'd like to share. Thanks so much and stay classy!**

 **\- Spent**


	4. Norrington's Warning

_Will was resting peacefully in bed next to his wife, Elizabeth. Their breathing was silent and their motions were still as they slumbered in the middle of the night. The window was open to let in a gentle summer breeze earlier that evening, but as the night progressed a thunderstorm came rolling into Port Charles._

 _The thunderclaps were loud, but it did not disturb the married couple while they slept. They were in complete, dreamless relaxation. All they felt was the coolness of the whistling wind that blew past the curtains. Given the usual climate of island life, it was a godsend to feel air this nice._

 _Suddenly, the sounds of slow, heavy footsteps came from the end of the corridor just outside their bedroom. As they drew nearer, the sound became more and more audible as they impacted the wooden surface. All at once, the footsteps stopped, and an eerie silence filled the cottage as the only noise that could be heard now was the whistling wind coming in from the outside._

 _The doorknob began to turn slowly. The door to their room started to creak open, casting light from the lamps that lit the hallway. The light shined down upon the sleeping Turners as the door continued to open, and soon it came to a full stop of motion as silence hung in the air once more._

 _A silhouette came into view on the floor, showing what looked to be an imposing figure wearing a sailor's hat standing in the doorway. The figure walked forward, its heavy footsteps dripping water onto the floor as it drew closer to the sleeping couple. Tentacle-like appendages appeared in the shadow of the head of the figure, swishing around like a monstrous creature that had come alive._

 _Again._

 _As the shadow loomed over the Turners, a tremendous thunderclap roared in the night, a quick, bright flash of lightning following soon after. In an instant, Will's eyes snapped open, and he bolted right up and looked towards where the figure was, seeing a massive crab's claw open up its pincers._

* * *

Will's eyes opened and he gasped for breath. He was still laying down on top of his pillow. Slowly, he picked up his head and continued to breathe deeply, surveying the room around him in search of an intruder.

But there was none. The door to their room was locked. The only people in the room were himself and his sleeping wife. The only sound he heard were the winds coming in from the outside.

It was just a dream.

Will exhaled slowly through his mouth, calming himself down. It had only been a dream. One far too familiar for his liking.

Will sat himself up, running a hand down his face. There was nothing to be afraid of. He was long gone. He couldn't hurt him or his family any longer.

At this thought, he turned his head and looked down onto Elizabeth, who was still sleeping peacefully with one hand resting on top of her belly. Will sighed in relief, knowing that she was alright. He was thankful for every day he spent with the woman he loved, taking none of it for granted. He had spent more time away from her than he was with her, and he was still determined to make up for his absence after all these years. He had spent the past year alone rebuilding his family, and everyone was happy and contented with their lives. For that, Will was grateful.

Will leaned down and kissed Elizabeth's forehead gently.

"Mmmmm…" she mumbled in her sleep, and Will couldn't help but smile. She was absolutely wonderful in every way. He could not have asked for a better wife for himself or a mother for their children.

Feeling that his throat was dry, Will slowly got up off the bed, careful not to wake Elizabeth. He walked over to his dresser and picked up the pitcher of water resting there. Taking a glass, he filled it with water and began to silently gulp it down, hoping the cool water would help to calm his nerves.

Spending twenty years as captain of the _Flying_ _Dutchman_ put him on edge, to say the least.

Feeling a shiver run down his spine, Will crossed his arms over his chest and turned around, looking over towards the window next to their shared bed. The air from outside had turned cold, and Will decided that they probably had had enough for one night.

Walking over to the window, Will pulled back the curtains so he could shut the window properly. But the moment he did, he paused because he noticed something down by the pier.

There was a light coming from inside the captain's cabin of the _Flying Dutchman._

Will's heartrate sped up, seeing the light flicker all the way from the cottage. Someone was on the ship at this very moment.

He thought back to the nightmare he had just woken up from, and he started to panic. At first, he told himself he was being silly, but Will was too old and too wise to chalk things up to coincidence anymore.

Regardless of whether or not his hunch was correct, and he was desperately hoping he was wrong, Will knew that there was someone aboard the ship right now. They could potentially pose a threat to his family, and Will would be damned before he let anything happen to them.

Closing the window, Will looked to his left to see the bedside drawer, and then he stepped over to it and carefully slid it open. He reached in and pulled out a pistol, and checked to make sure he had shot and powder loaded into it already.

Once he had finished and tucked the pistol into his pants, Will noticed Elizabeth shifting in her sleep, and he looked at her solemnly. He hoped this wouldn't be the last time he would see her, but he was going to protect his family no matter what.

Stepping into a pair of boots, Will carefully crept out of his room and walked down the hallway. He checked the rooms of his father and his son to make sure they were still here, and fortunately enough they were sound asleep in their beds. At least now he could rule out the possibility of any of his family being on the _Dutchman._

Will made his way downstairs, and opened up the side door of the cottage, stepping onto the grassy plains in the dead of night. The moonlight cast itself brightly over the island, but Will took a lantern with him just in case.

The light was still glowing from inside the cabin.

Will walked down across the grassy fields down over towards the pier, and from there stepped onto the _Dutchman's_ deck. It had been many months since he had set foot on the formerly-cursed vessel, and he was dreading having to return to it.

He faced towards the door that led to the captain's cabin, raising his lantern up while he did so. Slowly, he approached the door, drawing out his pistol and pointing the barrel upward.

Will swallowed, his heart beating faster than it probably ever had before.

Setting the lantern down just outside the door, Will slowly reached with his free hand towards the door's handle. Once he had a grip on it, he pulled back the hammer on his pistol, locking the flint into place.

 _This is it._

With a sudden burst of adrenaline, Will thrust the door open and quickly pointed his gun forward.

He was greeted by the sight of the back of the faded leather armchair that sat behind his desk, obscuring any figure from Will's view. The candles on the desk were burning, right next to them resting the heart-shaped locket, meaning that somebody indeed was here. Will kept a firm grip on his weapon, his finger just barely touching the trigger, as he pointed it at the back of the chair, waiting for whatever was sitting in the chair to make itself known.

Suddenly, a voice spoke up, sounding like the person had not spoken for years.

"As I told you once before, Mr. Turner, this is a beautiful sword."

Will froze.

This wasn't Davy Jones.

But that voice.

He _knew_ that voice.

Will's breath shuddered, and he started to pant heavily.

He started to lower his weapon.

No.

This couldn't be true.

He was long dead.

The figure placed his boots down upon the ground, and stood up.

He came around the back of the chair, and Will could now clearly see him.

He was wearing a Royal Navy Admiral's uniform, but it looked disheveled as if from years of rough living. He was not wearing a powdered wig as customary, but was wearing his natural brown hair down to his shoulders. He had a small but unkempt beard upon his face, along with an assortment of grime and filth upon his person. Atop his head he wore his Admiral's hat, though it was clear that, just like the rest of him, it had seen better days.

And in his hands, he was holding the sword that Will had forged for him all those years ago.

"You don't mind if I have this back, do you?" he asked Will.

Will's jaw dropped at the sight of him, along with his pistol.

This had to be another dream. Another nightmare.

But this was real.

 _"Norrington,"_ Will lets the name escape from his mouth, not believing what he saw before him.

James Norrington gave off a casual smile, and then said, "Nice to see you again too, Mr. Turner."

"You- but-" Will stammered, "I thought you were-"

"I was, actually," Norrington answered him, "Calypso had other ideas, though. There was an open vacancy on the _Dutchman,_ and when I was offered the chance, I thought... why not?"

Norrington took his sword and slid it into his scabbard, and Will still could not believe it.

"But... _why?"_ Will asked him.

"When the Trident was destroyed, it freed you from your duties," Norrington began, "but you and I both know the _Dutchman_ must always have a captain."

Norrington smirked at him, and Will's breath continued to pick up with every moment.

Amidst the raging thunder outside, the both of them could hear the faintest, melancholic music coming from the heart-shaped locket resting on the desk. A tune all too familiar to Will.

Looking back up at Norrington, Will noticed the smile disappear from his face, as the former naval officer uttered two words that would haunt him right down to the bone:

"He's back."

Will's heart skipped a beat, and he blinked.

Surely he was mistaken, right? He hadn't heard him correctly.

But Norrington's face remained straight, and his focus was unshaken.

" _No..."_ Will began, slowly walking backwards away from Norrington towards the interior walls of the captain's cabin, "No... no, no, no, no, no! No!"

"Will..." Norrington began, but Will cut him off almost instantly.

"NO! YOU'RE LYING!" Will shouted with as much ferocity as his panicked lungs would allow him.

"I'm afraid it's true," Norrington told him, but Will was not having any of it.

"I stabbed that bastard's heart!" Will hollered at the dead man, "Jones died by _my_ hand!"

"Yes he did," Norrington replied bluntly, "You stabbed his heart, and his body was consumed by the maelstrom. Jones _was_ dead, but now he is not."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean, James!?" Will bellowed, but Norrington raised his hand to silence him.

"If you would calm yourself for a moment, I would be more than happy to explain everything to you," Norrington said, "Now please, have a seat."

Will scoffed, "You're giving me orders on _my_ ship?"

"As I recall, the _Dutchman_ has not been your ship for a year," Norrington began, "In fact, it's been precisely one year to the day since you were no longer bound to her."

Will stopped fuming, making sure to take in every word of what Norrington was saying. He didn't know exactly what was going on, but he was starting to acquire some idea of what was what.

Norrington gestured his hand out towards the chair sitting in front of the desk, and a hesitant Will walked forward and sat himself down. Norrington moved the leather chair behind the desk to where it was facing Will, and he sat himself down upon it.

"Now, where to begin..." Norrington placed his elbows on the table, putting his hands together as he collected his thoughts, "Well, I suppose we should start with the obvious: my death."

Will raised an eyebrow, "What does your death have to do with any of this?"

"A great deal, actually," Norrington explained, an annoyed tone in his voice. If Will didn't know any better, he could've sworn it was like nothing had changed in the last twenty years. He spoke with a cadence that reminded him that this had once been a respected officer of His Majesty's Navy stationed in Port Royal.

"Now, I assume Ms. Swann told you about the circumstances of my death, correct?" Norrington asked.

"Yes," Will replied, still in utter disbelief that he was alive after what Elizabeth had told him, "She told me you helped her to escape from the _Dutchman's_ brig, how you stayed behind and bought time for her and her crew to get away."

"I did, and your father was the one who killed me," Norrington responded rather coolly. In all honesty, Will was expecting more anger to come from Norrington given these circumstances, but strangely enough he remained calm and calculated.

"I'm-" Will began, but this time Norrington interrupted him.

"I understand he wasn't in control of himself then. I harbor no ill will against your father," Norrington explained, "Nevertheless, he stuck a sharp wooden plank right through me, and that was that. I was dead in a matter of moments. But before I died, Jones approached me and offered me a second chance. I refused."

"And yet, here you are," Will noted.

"I'm getting to that part," Norrington added, "Jones must've taken my refusal of his offer rather harshly, and so, because of my insolence, he sent me down to the Locker."

Norrington's breath sound strained as he finished his statement. He took a moment to straighten out his ruined uniform, and Will could see that he seemed rather uncomfortable talking about this.

"Twenty years..." Norrington began, "Twenty years inside that godforsaken place..."

Norrington closed his eyes and exhaled deeply.

Opening his eyes, he said, "Though I expect that you know what that feels like as well."

"I do," Will answered, recalling all the years he was cursed to this ship, "But how did you get out? You said Calypso freed you?"

"Well, I don't know about 'freedom,' but I'm sure it's a sight better than that prison Jones kept me in," Norrington began again, "But I digress. One day she appeared to me and asked me if I wanted out, and offered me captaincy of the _Dutchman._ I figured if my soul was to be damned, it would be better if I could still help people in some way."

"But why did she offer it to you?" Will inquired, "Of all people, she chose you. Why?"

"I don't know," Norrington told him, "Truly, I don't know. I asked her and she would not tell me a thing."

Will thought on this for a moment. Calypso never once made herself known to him in the twenty years he was bound to the _Dutchman._ Why would she appear to Norrington of all people and make him his replacement?

"But while I don't know why she picked me, I _do_ know why she picked a replacement, and I am fairly certain you can guess why that is," Norrington said.

Will was able to draw a probable guess based on what he'd been told, and then answered, "The Trident of Poseidon."

Norrington smiled, seemingly content that the former captain understood what he was now telling him.

"Exactly one year ago, the Trident was destroyed, and all the power of the sea was released with it," he began, "Part of that included the curses of the sea, and that's how you were set free."

"But if the curse was lifted, how are _you_ captain?" Will asked.

"No, no, you misunderstand. I said it lifted _your_ curse. The mission of the _Flying Dutchman_ remains unchanged," Norrington explained, "Now, that being said, more was done that day than just that. Like me, for example."

"And what of Davy Jones?" Will asked, steering the conversation back to where it originally began, back to the details that most concerned him.

"When he died," Norrington started, "his soul was taken to a special 'pocket' just for him. Neither the Locker nor Fiddler's Green would have him. And now that the Trident is destroyed, Jones, like me, has returned to the land of the living."

"Why is he back?" Will inquired.

"Calypso didn't say, only that he had and what he plans to do," Norrington said, and then looked at Will with a grim expression in his eyes.

"Which is?" Will asked, though he already knew what the answer was.

"He plans to kill you," Norrington responded plainly.

Will ran a hand down his face and held it over his mouth. His mind was in a state somewhere between fear and anger, and he didn't know what he was more of.

Suddenly, Will stood himself up and prepared to walk out the doors. Before he could Norrington practically leapt out of his chair and said, "Mr. Turner, I am afraid you don't understand the full gravity of the situation-"

"No, but I do, Mr. Norrington," Will turned back around to face him, "Jones is out there somewhere, and he means to kill me and my family. I'm not going to let that monster destroy my life more than he already has."

"And what is it that you plan on doing, hmm?" Norrington asked, "If you plan on running, Jones will find you, and this time there is no heart locked inside a chest for you to stab. He's been given special power by the god Triton."

Will paused again and stared at Norrington. This was all starting to get ridiculous now. If he didn't already know the danger that Jones commanded the last time he saw him, he would've laughed.

"You're pulling my leg," Will stated, but Norrington shook his head, "Triton, son of Poseidon?"

"Calypso was being frustratingly vague with me, but one thing she did tell me was that the Trident also released the soul of Triton. I don't know why he was trapped inside the Trident, or what his plans are, but he's made Jones immortal once again," Norrington said.

"Well, that's just perfect," Will placed a hand over his eyes.

"You can't hope to defeat Jones on your own, but maybe you don't have to," Norrington began, "I didn't come here just to warn you, Will."

Sighing, Will asked, "How do you propose to beat Jones, then?"

"There is one way," Norrington began, "but to accomplish it, it requires information provided by two people you know quite well."

"And who would they be?" Will asked.

Norrington remained silent for a moment, and then he said, "Hector Barbossa, and your son, Henry."

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for the delay, but I'll be writing some more chapters soo enough. I apologize if the writing seems a little confusing because I didn't really have the clearest focus here. Hopefully it's to your liking and not too unbearable. Have a great day and stay classy!**

 **\- Spent**


	5. Ghosts of the Past

Will raised an eyebrow. This wasn't the first time he thought he had misheard Norrington tonight, but surely this _had_ to be a mistake.

"What does my son have to do with any of this?" Will asked, his voice becoming more tense as Norrington had the audacity to mention his son's name aloud, "He's only a boy. What could he _possibly_ know that could destroy Jones?"

"You see, the thing is-" Norrington began, but Will raised a hand up and silenced the former naval officer.

"Wait, wait, wait, don't tell me," Will cut him off, "Calypso was being vague with you once again."

Norrington kept his mouth shut, but his silence spoke a thousand words.

"What is with these damned _riddles!?"_ Will pinched his temples with his right hand, "Can't these gods ever make _any sense!?_ God, I knew Barbossa should never have released that witch!"

"MR. TURNER!" Norrington shouted in anger, becoming frustrated with Will's inability to stay focused. At once Will snapped to attention and became silent, and he started to calm down from the rage he was in just a few moments before. Norrington did the same with a deep exhale.

"Believe me when I say I am just as frustrated as you are at not knowing all the answers," Norrington started, "but Calypso gave me a task to accomplish and I am inclined to trust her."

"How do you know she isn't just using you like she used Jones?" Will asked, "That once you do as she asks that she'll forsake you?"

"I have faith, Will," Norrington said, "You should have a little in me, because right now I am the best chance you and your family have got. Do we have an understanding?"

Norrington stuck his hand out, and Will hesitated for a moment as he stared at it. He was just starting to build his life back together, and now he was being thrown back into all the chaos and madness he left behind.

But Will realized that he had to do it. Not for himself, or for the world at large, but for his family.

He took Norrington's hand, and he said, "We do, Commodore."

"Captain, actually, seeing as I'm no longer a member of the Royal Navy," Norrington dryly quipped, "Though I suppose a demotion is better than death."

They released their grip on each other's hands, and Will asked, "What do you want me to do?"

"First thing's first, the _Dutchman_ needs a crew," Norrington told him, "I'm going to go out in search of lost souls who'd be willing to serve. In the meantime, I need you to get yourself and your son ready by dusk tomorrow. We'll be leaving together to find Captain Barbossa."

"Wait," Will interrupted, "what about the rest of my family?"

"Don't worry," Norrington assured him, "Jones still cannot walk on land so your father and your wife will be safe."

"Alright," Will said, "But do you at least know what it is we need from Barbossa?"

"Information, for one," Norrington began, turning around and walking towards the cabin windows, "Calypso mentioned that he might have a weapon that could help us in this fight."

"What kind of weapon?" Will asked, but Norrington simply replied, "Something... elemental."

Will was still skeptical about all of this, but he realized he didn't have much choice in the matter, not if he wanted to keep his family safe.

"Fine. We'll meet here tomorrow at dusk," Will told Norrington. He then picked up his pistol and lantern and began to walk out the cabin doors, but before he could cross the threshold, Norrington's voice spoke again.

"Mr. Turner..." he spoke, and Will reoriented himself to face towards Norrington, who still had his back turned and his hands held behind himself.

"Yes?" Will obliged.

"Do give my regards to Elizabeth," Norrington spoke softly, "I understand that she and I were never meant to be, but... still."

Norrington sighed, and Will couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. He loved Elizabeth with all his heart and wouldn't trade it for anything, but he still couldn't deny how it had hurt Norrington and left him heartbroken. He had saved her life out of his love for her, and he was repaid for it with death at Will's father's hand. Fate had dealt him a cruel hand.

But there was no use dwelling on it. What's done is done.

"I'll do so," Will assured him, and with that he closed the cabin door behind him.

After Will left, Norrington turned around and walked over to his desk, his eyes transfixed on the opened locket playing the soft, melancholic tune. Gingerly, he picked up the locket and held it in his hand for a moment, listening closely to the tune that was playing. It was a sweet and sad song, reflecting the lost love of Davy Jones.

Before the song finished, Norrington abruptly closed the locket and noted it's heart-shaped design.

He gripped his fingers around it tightly and his hand started to shake.

Meanwhile, Will had walked back up to his cottage and crept into his bedroom. He doused the lantern, stowed away his pistol, and removed his boots before he found himself standing over his sleeping wife again, staring at her intently.

He should've known that this was all too good to be true, that eventually he would be brought back into the world of pirates and supernatural like he _didn't_ want to happen. He thought that with his curse lifted that he was done, but apparently all of Henry's searching for the Trident of Poseidon was for naught.

Jack Sparrow's death had bought him only one year of freedom.

Will sighed and ran a hand down his face, having not thought about Jack in the many months since he died. Why couldn't it have been _him_ that was resurrected by Calypso? Why Norrington? Norrington was a good man to be sure, but Jack had a daughter. Shouldn't he have gotten some consideration?

But Will realized there was nothing he could do about it now, and pondering the matter was only stressing him more than the previous conversation with Norrington already had.

He looked down at Elizabeth, who was still sleeping peacefully as if none of what had transpired had happened. He wishes it could stay that way, and the four (soon to be five) of them could live in the harmony they had worked so hard to build this year. But he knows what was about to happen, what they were up against, and he knows that he has to stop Jones from hurting his family.

Deep down, he knows he should probably wake her up. He should tell her about Norrington and Jones and Henry's supposed involvement in whatever's transpiring.

But she looked so peaceful as she was sleeping. He dared not to disturb her.

So, Will clambered back into bed alongside her, wrapping his arm around her protectively. Elizabeth murmured something but remained fast asleep.

Will's hand lowered down and gently caressed Elizabeth's protruding abdomen. Only a few more months to go.

 _I hope to God that you're a girl._

He would tell his family everything tomorrow morning. But for now, Will wanted them to sleep.

One last peaceful sleep.

* * *

There wasn't a scrap of land in sight. Even if it weren't the dead of night, one wouldn't be able to make out anything beyond the vast, open waters. The only indication one had of their location were the stars in the night sky.

On the horizon, something started to form in the air. It looked to be a small cloud of fog, and it hung in the air for a few moments before it began to spread. The cloud started to become larger and larger, spreading itself out thin as it began to engulf a sizable area of the nearby sea. The fog soon became mist, and an eerie chill ran through the night air.

Thunder boomed from the night sky, and lightning started to flash. At once, several bolts began to strike in the area where the mist had formed, and there was a tremendous flashing from within. This continued on for a few more moments before the lightning stopped and all that remained was the thunder.

A silhouette began to take shape within the mist. It was undefined at first but with the passage of time the image became more and more clear.

It was a ship. A very old style of ship, ill suited for the 18th century. It had no armaments, and in place of cannons they had oars. The ship began to drift out the mist, revealing several lit torches on the vessel. The light from the torches revealed that the magnificent sails were white.

And adorned with a red cross.

The panicked cries along the top deck had died down, and the Templars had passed through the mist seemingly unharmed. The men began to inspect each other, wondering what had just happened. They had felt the strangest sensation passing through the mist, an almost unnatural dread that consumed the lot of them.

Evrard blinked, surprised that he was still alive. He thought that he and the knights were doomed for sure. He turned to look at the Commander, and Robert was still holding onto Ares' Spear. The glowing from the weapon's crystal had died down.

"What just happened?" Evrard asked.

"I don't know," Robert answered truthfully. He observed the Spear and he too noticed that the glowing had reduced its intense brightness.

He looked down onto the deck where the men were starting to reorient themselves, and Robert asked, "Is everyone alright?"

The men looked up and responded with either "yes" or asked about what had happened. Robert could not provide them with an answer because he had none himself. He placed his hands along the rail and exhaled deeply. _That_ was bizarre.

Robert began to walk down from the quarter deck onto the main deck, and Evrard quickly followed behind him.

"Sir, I believe that that was a warning of some kind," Evrard suggested.

"How do you mean?" Robert asked.

"The message on the outside of the cave said that if we took the Spear then we challenge the gods," Evrard said.

"So you think that the mist was their way of saying the challenge had begun?" Robert turned to face his man, skeptical on the matter.

"Perhaps, or maybe it was telling us to stop now before it was too late," Evrard elaborated, "In any case, it is imperative that we get rid of the Spear as soon as possible."

"I think I am beginning to agree with you, dear Evrard," Robert nodded.

"And why would you be wantin' to do a thing such as that-ah?"

All the men aboard jumped at the unfamiliar voice, and when they turned to face the source of the voice they all leapt back in panic, some screaming and others drawing their weapons. Evrard pulled out his claymore sword and stood in front of Robert, ready to protect the Commander at all costs from the monster standing in the middle of the deck.

He stood up like a man but his features resembled that of an ocean beast. One leg had a boot covered in crustaceans, the other looked like the leg of a crab. Looking upward, the Templars saw that his blue uniform was also ragged and covered with even more crustaceans. His right hand was green and looked like octopus' tentacles clutching onto a very unusually shaped smoking pipe. His left arm was a giant crab's arm with his overcoat was hanging off of his left shoulder. Robert looked towards the monster's face, and saw that his head resembled that of a squid, with the tentacles hanging from his face like an overgrown beard, and he was wearing a large faded blue captain's hat covered with algae. Strangely enough, his face almost looked human, except it was missing a nose, and those beady blue eyes seemed to be staring right through each of them.

"Who are you!?" Robert demanded, his grip on the Spear of Destiny remaining firm as he continued to eye the monster.

"Uh-uh-uh. I asked you first-ah," the creature asked in a thick Scottish accent with a sinister smirk upon his face, "Why do you want-ah to rid yourselves of the Spear?"

Evrard turned his head back towards Robert, and they gave each other knowing looks. Afterwards, Robert said, "It is of no concern of yours what the Church does, demon!"

The monster chuckled, and then struck a match to light up his pipe. He took a long drag from it and blew it through both his mouth and orifices.

" _Demon?"_ the creature asked, smoke flowing out of his mouth, "Oh, I assure you sir, that I am no demon. No, I am something far _worse_ than any demon you Papists have conjured up in your fantasies-ah!"

The tensions only rose as every knight looked on the creature with rising anger and contempt.

"But..." the creature took another drag from his pipe, "... I suppose I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is Jones. Davy Jones."

Evrard reaffirmed his grip on his blade as he eyed Davy Jones. Robert remained behind him ready to protect the Spear with his life.

"And who might you be-ah?" Jones asked, his eyes locked on Robert's.

Hesitantly, Robert answered with, "Sir Robert de Montreal, Order of the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon."

Jones' beady eyes widened with devilish delight, and replied with " _Templars?_ This certainly got a whole lot more interesting-ah."

"What do you mean?" Robert asked, to which Jones laughed and treaded slowly towards Robert and Evrard. The other knights were prepared to strike at any moment if Jones were to try anything.

"What I mean is... welcome to the 18th century, boys-ah!" Jones finished with a cackle, and all around them the Templars were both shocked and confused as what this meant.

"What is this nonsense!?" Robert demanded of Jones.

"Oh, ya didn't know?" Jones raised an eyebrow, "When you removed the Spear from Ares' grave, you invoked the wrath of the gods-ah. That mist sent you forward in time-ah."

Evrard craned his neck again and shot Robert a dirty look, and Robert looked remorseful. None of this would be happening if they had left well enough alone.

"Alright, say we did anger the gods," Robert began, "Why send us six-hundred years into the future?"

"I guess the gods decided they liked the playing field, as it were," Jones continued, "And rest assured that _they. Will. Play-ah."_

Jones turned away from Robert and started to look towards all the knights on deck, "I come here before each and every one of you-ah, to offer you a chance-ah. Join my crew-ah, my _team-ah_ if you like, and you will have a fighting chance to make it out of this game alive!"

"And if we refuse?" Evrard spoke up this time, and Jones directed his gaze towards him. He started to limp slowly towards him, and Evrard swallowed as sweat formed on his brow. Jones was then mere inches from Evrard's face.

"You have a lot of nerve-ah, boy," Jones snarled, "I commend you, Sir Robert, for having such loyal and steadfast knights at your command-ah."

Jones then backed away from Evrard, and Evrard sighed in relief.

"Let it be known that if you refuse then you'll be in the arms of your God-ah a lot _sooner_ than you were likely expecting to be-ah!" Jones shouted, and all the knights remained firm at attention.

"Will ye serve-ah?" Jones asked them.

Before anyone could respond, one of the knights shouted, _"Filthy heretic!"_

Jones turned in the direction of the voice and saw one of the knights pull down his visor and raise his sword up on high. With no more warning he began to charge towards Jones, only Jones didn't flinch.

"HYEEEAAAAAHHH!" the knight shouted as he ran his blade right through Jones' chest. The knight thought he was victorious, but he looked upward and saw that Jones' expression had not changed and he continued to stand as if he were not just run through.

The other knights gasped as they saw that Jones was still alive, and Jones himself sighed in audible disappointment.

"What sorcery is this!?" the knight asked aloud, and Jones replied, "Call it a gift-ah from a god that is not your own-ah."

In half a moment, Jones' crab arm wrapped itself around the knight's throat, crushing through the metal armor protecting his head and neck.

"Do you not fear death-ah?" Jones asked, tilting his head.

"I only fear the Lord," the knight responded.

Jones leaned in closer and whispered, "You should also beware of the Devil."

With that, Jones' crab-arm snapped the neck of the knight, killing him instantly and horrifying the knights on board. He then tossed his body into the sea, and the weight of his armor carried him down to the bottom.

"As you can see, defyin' me would be a useless gesture-ah," Jones flashed a wicked grin, "Join me-ah, and at least you will have a chance-ah."

The morale of all the knights on board diminished, and they realized they could do nothing to resist the immortal monster they saw before them. All of them, including Evrard, sheathed their swords.

"Wise choice," Jones remarked, looking pleased as he took another drag with his pipe, "Welcome to the crew."

Jones looked down at the hilt of the sword sticking out from his chest. After putting out his pipe and stuffing it in his coat pocket, he took his tentacled hand and pulled the blade out, seeing that the blade was coated in his own blood. Cleaning the blade, he observed the old Crusader design and remarked, "Nice sword."

He then placed it in the empty sheathe on his belt. It wasn't the same as a broadsword or cutlass of this era, but it would do for now.

Jones then addressed the knights again and said, "Well, what are you waiting for!? Your captain commands-ah that you get to your stations-ah!"

With that, the Templars dispersed and began to man the different parts of the ship, none of them eager to incur the wrath of Davy Jones while he was in charge.

Jones walked over towards Robert and Evrard, the latter still standing in front of the former trying to protect him.

"Noble but futile, young man-ah," Jones said, "Now, I need to have a few words with your master-ah."

Evrard looked back at Robert, who gave him silent confirmation to step aside. He did, and afterward Jones was now standing face-to-face with Robert.

"I'll be taking the Spear now," Jones extended his tentacled hand towards Robert.

Robert looked down at the Spear for a moment, hesitant to hand it over to a man like Jones. He knew that there was no point in resisting, but part of him wanted to defy Jones right here and now. Still, he had never encountered anything like this in his entire life, and he was afraid of what would happen to himself and his men.

Reluctantly, Robert handed the Spear of Destiny over to Jones, who grasped onto the blackened handle with his slimy fingers and gazed upon the crystal in the center.

"Thank ye, Sir Robert," Jones spoke, "This will be much more useful than if it were in mortal hands."

"With all due respect, Captain Jones," Robert asked, "what is it that you intend to do now?"

Jones looked towards him, saying, "That is a fair question, sir. A fair question indeed."

He walked away towards the quarter deck, and some of the knights there backed up in fear. Robert followed close behind, joining him at the helm.

"This ship is primitive-ah, but it will suffice for now-ah," Jones began, "Prepare to cast off-ah, and bring me to William Turner!"

* * *

Will awoke to find a beam of sunlight shining down upon his eyelids. Groaning, he shielded his eyes and propped himself up, getting himself awake in the process.

All at once, the memories of the previous night came flooding back to him. Norrington's warning echoed through his mind, and Will soon started to panic a little remembering that Davy Jones was now alive once again. How was he going to explain this to his family?

At this thought, Will looked down and saw that Elizabeth was still slumbering next to him. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and decided he was going to let her sleep just a little bit longer. He quietly climbed out of bed and exited their room, and then was making his way down the hallway so he could go downstairs to the kitchen. But before he took a step down the stairs, a thought occurred to him.

He should probably wake up Henry and explain the situation as soon as possible. Whatever Henry could provide, Will had to tell him about all this so that he wasn't blindsided by whatever Norrington needed him for.

He turned back around and opened Henry's bedroom door, and he caught sight of his son still lying in bed. It was the crack of dawn so he wasn't expecting him to be up at this time, but he knew he had to wake him.

But then, Will noticed something most peculiar. The fingers on his right hand appeared to be twitching, and his neck movements were fidgety and rapid.

"Henry?" Will asked quietly, walking over towards his son. Gently, he placed his hand on Henry's shoulder, and at that precise moment Henry's eyes shot open and he was gasping for breath.

"Aah!" Henry shouted as he faced in his father's direction, panting heavily out of panic.

"Henry, it's just me. Are you alright?" Will asked, concerned about what was going on with Henry.

Henry closed his eyes and slowed down his breathing, saying, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm alright, father."

He brought his hands up and rubbed his eyelids.

"I had a nightmare," Henry remarked, throwing his sheets off his body and throwing his feet over the side of the bed onto the floor.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Will asked. He hoped this had nothing to do with Jones.

"No, I'll be fine," Henry reassured him, "Just a bad dream is all."

"Alright. Well, if you're sure..." Will began, "Come downstairs after you finish getting ready. We're going to make breakfast for your mother and grandfather, and there's something I need to discuss with you."

Henry looked up at his father, and then asked, "What about?"

"We'll talk about it once you're ready," Will said, and afterwards he removed his hand from his son's shoulder and exited the room, shutting the door behind him.

Henry got up out of bed and cracked his neck and arms, standing up straight and getting himself energized. Afterwards he got dressed in his usual attire consisting of a white shirt, grey vest, black pants and matching boots. After tying his hair back, he knelt down beneath his bed and pulled out his trunk. He removed its contents until he found the jewel again, which looked to be glowing brighter than usual, and this presented a major concern for Henry.

He couldn't remember much about his dream, vivid though it was, but one thing he did remember was that the jewel was in that dream. He had no idea why, but it was and there was this nagging feeling inside his head. Perhaps he was being superstitious, but Henry knew better than to leave things to chance.

He pocketed the jewel, and then afterwards he reached inside the container and pulled out his small, black knife. His father had given it to him as a birthday present, and he remembers first having to use it in self-defense during his quest for the Trident last year. He doesn't know why, but he feels the need to take the knife as a precaution. He sheathes it in his boot, and then afterwards closes the trunk and leaves his room.

He heads downstairs where his father is in the kitchen, boiling coffee grounds in the fire. He comes over and asks, "What is it that you wanted to talk to me about, father?"

"Hello, Henry," Will began, pouring the both of them cups of coffee. After handing Henry a cup, the pair of them sat down and Will asked, "I wanted to talk to you about the Trident of Poseidon."

"The Trident?" Henry asked, puzzled, "What for? It's destroyed."

"I know that, but-" Will paused and sighed, "I'm curious. Humor me. Run through the events of what happened- er, as best as you can remember anyway."

"Well, it's difficult to say. Salazar was controlling my actions and was trying to make me kill Jack and Carina," Henry shuddered at the memory of the Spaniard, "We were in Poseidon's Tomb, and we were fighting and then Salazar gets his hands - well, _my_ hands technically - on the Trident, and he frees himself from my body. Afterwards I blacked out, and then I woke up and came up with a plan with Carina on how to stop Salazar. I rushed forward to help Jack, and then right as I pass out again I gave Jack my sword, and he broke the Trident. When I woke up the weapon was in pieces, and we had to escape the tomb."

Henry gulped, recounting the memory of Jack Sparrow's death. It was far from his most pleasant of memories.

"And what happened in between then?" Will asked, "The Trident's destruction and the escape, I mean?"

"I had passed out, and it was all so fast-" Henry began, but Will cut him off.

"Henry, this is really, _really_ important. Take a moment to think about what happened, even if it seemed miniscule at the time," Will instructed him.

Henry swallowed, and his mind immediately drew the connection between his dream and the questions his father was asking. He figured he was going to have to tell his father at some point.

"When the Trident was destroyed, I was searching through the rubble and-" he removed the jewel from his pocket, "-I found this."

Will eyed the jewel intently, his mouth widening as he saw how it was glowing.

He looked up at his son with a disappointed expression on his face and said, "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"I was going to, honestly," Henry began, "But it was just your return and Jack's death and you and mum deciding to have another child that I could never find the right time."

"It's been a year, Henry. You should have told us sooner," Will scolded, snatching the jewel from Henry's palm.

"I'm sorry, sir-"

"Sorry doesn't cut it, young man," Will was starting to look angry, but he quickly tried to calm himself, "Now, is there anything else you can remember? Anything at all?"

"I remember a voice," Henry told him, "A voice spoke to me and said something, ' _Unum annum pacem.'"_

 _"Unum annum pacem,"_ Will repeated the phrase and deciphering its meaning, "One year peace."

"What?" Henry asked.

"It's Latin," Will explained, "One year peace."

He pocketed the jewel and then looked Henry in the eyes.

"Henry, there is something I need to tell you," Will said, setting his coffee cup down and grabbing his son's shoulders, "There is something very sinister going on here and you need to understand this."

"What? What is it?" Henry asked, setting his own cup down.

Will gulped, "This is about D-"

"IN THE NAME OF HIS MAJESTY, KING GEORGE II, _OPEN THIS DOOR!"_

Will and Henry directed their attention towards the front door, hearing the shouts and knocks coming from the other side. They then looked at each other, and Henry asked, "What do we do?"

"Stay here, let me handle this," Will motioned, getting up out of his seat and walking over towards the door. While doing so, he saw that Elizabeth and Bill were making their way downstairs.

"Will, what's going on?" Elizabeth asked.

"Elizabeth, get back upstairs," Will gestured, "I'll take care of this."

"If they've come looking for a fight then they'll get one," Bill snarled, cracking his knuckles, but Will put his hand up and said, "Father, I said I will take care of this."

Neither Elizabeth nor Bill moved from their place on the stairs, and the pounding on the door continued.

Slowly, Will reached for the handle and unlocked the door. However, before he could open the door himself, the door was pushed forcefully, causing Will to fall onto his back.

"WILL!" Elizabeth called out, rushing down the stairs over towards Will's side. Before she got there, at least a half-dozen Redcoats came rushing inside with bayonets attached to their muskets. Will and Elizabeth looked away in fear thinking they were here for them, but they were surprised to see that none of them came at them directly. Instead, they looked towards the kitchen area when they heard Henry's voice say, "Let go of me, you lobsterbacks!"

"No!" Will shouted out, and Elizabeth helped him to stand on his feet. Afterwards more guards entered the cottage followed by a man wearing a Royal Navy officer's uniform. He strode over to the kitchen area where two soldiers were holding Henry's arms in place while the others pointed their guns at him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!?" Will was infuriated. What did these guys want with his son?

"Quiet, you," the lead officer snarled, and he pulled a roll of paper out of his jacket pocket and was prepared to read from it, but he was cut off by Henry.

"Scarfield," Henry said, recognizing the face and voice of the man who had attempted to have him and the crew of the _Black Pearl_ killed a year ago.

"That's _Commodore_ Scarfield to you, boy," Scarfield wagged a finger in his face.

"What, did they give you that promotion for running away from battle?" Henry couldn't stop himself, "You jumped ship while everyone else was killed."

"What do _you_ know of it, traitor?" Scarfield asked of Henry, but Will butted in and strutted forward saying, "Hey, I don't know who you think you are, but my son is no traitor!"

"Are you sure about that?" Scarfield began, "Because I have in my hand a warrant for the arrest of Henry William Turner on the charge of desertion."

"Why, you-" Will began stepping forward, but when he did Scarfield drew his pistol on him and had an unflinching gaze.

"I am only here for the boy," Scarfield said, "Interfere and I will have your entire family thrown into prison for harboring a known fugitive. Do I make myself clear?"

Will was fuming at this point and wanted nothing more than to drive his blade through this man's heart.

"Father," Henry got his attention, "It's going to be alright."

"Henry-" Will began.

"Commodore Scarfield, I will come quietly," Henry began, "Just leave my family alone!"

"Henry, no!" Will said, "Commodore, let my son go!"

"FATHER!" Henry bellowed, "I confess! I deserted my station aboard the _HMS Monarch_ when we were under fire! Now please, take me and leave my family out of it!"

"And there you have it," Scarfield said, holstering his pistol, "Clap him in irons."

Chains were then wrapped around Henry's wrists as the soldiers then started to escort him outside to the prison wagon.

"No, no!" Elizabeth shouted, watching as the Redcoats arrested her son and rushing forward, "You can't take my boy!"

"Mother, father, save your strength!" Henry said, "There'll be another time! I'll be alright! You'll see!"

One of the soldiers removed the knife from his boot, and then Henry was placed inside the wagon and chained down. The rest of the soldiers then got onto the other wagons and prepared to leave.

Will had to restrain a sobbing Elizabeth, and they could do nothing but watch as Henry was being taken to prison.

"Those bastards are going to pay for what they've done," Bill spoke bitterly, and he was half-tempted to fight all the soldiers himself right then and there.

Will didn't say anything. All he could do was provide comfort to his crying wife as he watched his son being taken away by the British soldiers.

"Elizabeth," Will began, "Elizabeth, I need you to listen to me. I have a plan on how to get Henry back."

"Whatever you do, you better do it quick, otherwise I will kill every last one of them if they touch one hair on my son!" Elizabeth was livid. No one dared to ever come between her and her family.

"Alright, but Elizabeth, I need you to focus and listen to me," Will began, "There's something we need to talk about."

* * *

 **A/N: Dun-dun-duuuuuuuuuun! Bet y'all didn't see this coming, did ya? Well I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Lots of crucial plot details here and establishing new dynamics for old characters. The plot is still building, but soon it'll really kick off, and I guarantee that you won't be disappointed. As always, be sure to read, review, and share, and I'll get to writing the next chapter as soon as possible. Stay classy everyone!**


	6. Master and Apprentice

It was approaching afternoon, and the Caribbean sun shone brightly in the sky over the island. It wasn't particularly large, but it was sufficiently sized to accommodate the sugar plantation that was operated on it.

The sun was particularly hot that day, but it was nothing that the workers couldn't handle. It was planting season after all, and if they wanted to turn a profit they had to take the risks of a little sweat and effort.

It was a much more honest living than what they had been used to.

One man was pushing a plow forward through the soil, dragged along by oxen. He had on a white shirt with sweat stains formed on it, a green bandana over his forehead, and a wooden right leg that had replaced the peg-leg he once had. He was getting on in years, but his energy remained just as strong as it had been throughout his life. Even after hours in the unforgiving sun plowing the fields, it was still not as strenuous as his long and intrepid career as a pirate had been.

In short, Hector Barbossa was doing alright.

After the quest for the Trident of Poseidon, he decided to retire from piracy, believing he had seen and done enough for one life. The journey for the Trident had caused him to doubt what he truly wanted out of life, but once he had seen his friend and longtime rival Jack Sparrow sacrifice himself for something greater, that cinched it. Barbossa had the opportunity to take the _Black Pearl_ for himself once more, but he didn't. He let it go, and he decided that his time was done.

So, he had taken the fortune he had acquired after a long piratical career and decided to make a change. He bought himself this island to run his sugar plantation out of, and then he gave most of his money away to the pirates who had served dutifully under him, hoping they would take this charity as a way of starting new lives for themselves. A fair portion of his men decided to leave piracy as well and work for him on his plantation.

He divided up his pirate fleet, giving them free reign instead of having to pay tribute to him. The _Queen Anne's Revenge,_ the ship of the legendary pirate Edward "Blackbeard" Teach, had been given to Scrum, who still wanted to continue the pirate's life. Barbossa believed he was entitled to; Scrum was still on the young side, and this was a young man's game.

After a long career of buccaneering and killing, Barbossa had decided to try to make an honest living. It wouldn't absolve him of all his sins, but he was committed to trying to rectify the mistakes he made.

Barbossa paused in the middle of his plowing to catch his breath, wiping the sweat that formed on his face onto his sleeve. It was hard work, but he found himself sleeping better than he had in a long time.

He pulled out a pocket watch and looked at the time, and saw it was almost noon. He had been at this for almost three hours now, so he was due for a break anyway. Maybe he would have a nice cup of tea. Or perhaps a large brandy.

"Ship to the east!" one of the workers called out, pointing out towards the horizon. Barbossa craned his neck to look out towards the sea, and in the distance he saw a black spec trekking its way along the high seas.

Barbossa smiled, not needing a spyglass to know who was coming.

"Impeccable timing," he remarked, checking his pocket watch.

Barbossa stopped plowing and led the oxen back into the barn. Afterwards he went inside his home and changed his clothes, putting on simple garments suitable for a sugar planter. He took the bandana off of his forehead and wiped whatever sweat clung to his face, and then he made his way back outside.

By then, the _Black Pearl_ had already docked itself along the pier next to the _Eagle,_ Barbossa's merchant schooner. Barbossa caught sight of his men staring at the newly-arrived ship, and then declared "No more work today, gents."

The men were pleased that they could stop working earlier than expected, and by then the crew of the _Black Pearl_ had disembarked from the ship onto land. Barbossa began to walk forward towards the pirate crew, and smiled when he saw Carina Sparrow at the front of them.

"Captain Barbossa!" Carina called out, a grin on her face.

"Captain Sparrow," Barbossa replied simply and formally. They then walked towards each other and hugged like old friends.

Pulling away and stepping back, Barbossa asked "I trust ye've had good fortune blown yer way?"

"More or less," Carina shrugged, "How about yourself?"

"Can't complain," Barbossa said, "So what brings ye to my plantation?"

"Come now, Hector," Carina teased, "Can't one pirate pay another a social call on account of them being good friends?"

"Aye, that be true," Barbossa began, "but I've told you before, I've finished with that life. Now assumin' ye ain't here to rob me, would ye and yer men care for a drink? There's more than enough room inside for the lot of ye."

Carina turned to face her crew, and then said, "What do you think, men? Shall we accept Captain Barbossa's most generous offer?"

There was agreeable murmuring among the crowd, and Ragetti said, "I could do with a spot of rum."

Carina turned back round to face Barbossa, and then said, "We accept."

* * *

 _"Oh, poor ol' Stormy's dead and gone!"_ Pintel began, with drooping eyes and drunken content.

 _"Stormalong, boys! Stormalong John!"_ the pirates bellowed as they sung the chorus.

 _"Oh, poor ol' Stormy's dead and gone!"_ Ragetti continued, wrapping his arm around Pintel's shoulder in an attempt to keep himself from falling.

 _"AHA!"_ the crew continued, raising their mugs full of rum, grog, and whiskey, _"Come along, get along, Stor-me-a-long John!"_

There was a pause in the singing as copious drinking and laughter ensued. A few of the pirates collapsed onto the stone floor of the dining room.

Carina was nursing her tin mug of Irish whiskey, some of it accidentally spilling down her chin due to carelessness, and laughed alongside the rest of her crew watching as Pintel and Ragetti performed their duet.

 _"I dug his grave with a silver spade-"_

Carina's attention was broken by the feeling of a hand being placed on her shoulder, and she turned her neck to see that Barbossa had gotten up out of his chair to talk to her. He merely nudged his head to the side, indicating that he wanted to speak with her in private for a moment. Obliging him, Carina slowly got up out of her chair (due to her having perhaps a bit too much to drink tonight already), and followed him out of the dining room and to a lounge-like area, complete with a fireplace and furnishings.

"What's on your mind, Barbossa?" Carina asked the older pirate, and Barbossa turned around and said, "First, there's someone I'd like ye to meet."

One of the doors that led into the lounge area opened up, and in stepped in probably the strangest woman Carina had ever laid eyes on.

She had on a hooded black cloak which enshrouded her, along with an odd assortment of trinkets on her person. The cloak did little to obscure her features, and Carina could see that the woman had strange markings all over her body.

"Hello, Carina Sparrow. A pleasure to finally meet you in the flesh," the woman greeted Carina, exposing her grin which made Carina slightly uncomfortable. What made the moment more uncomfortable was her usage of the word "flesh."

Barbossa wrapped his left arm over her shoulders, and then said, "This is my partner, Shansa."

Carina raised an eyebrow questionably. Hector Barbossa had a _wife?_

"You're _married?"_ Carina was still confused. Granted she'd only known Barbossa for the past year, this still came as a shock to her. It seemed rather out of character for him.

"Well, common-law if ye want to get technical," Barbossa continued.

Shansa slowly stepped forward away from Barbossa and towards Carina, slowly removing her black hood and showing her bald, mark-covered head.

"I sense great confusion in you, my child," Shansa began, slowly raising her right hand up.

Carina was utterly confused about what was going on, so she tried to speak up by saying "I-"

Shansa cut her off before she could say anything more, and said "Give me your arm."

Carina looked past Shansa over to Barbossa, who merely shrugged as if to say to just go along with it. Hesitantly, Carina lifted up her left arm, and Shansa took hold of it and rolled back the sleeve of her overcoat. The witch then traced her middle finger slowly along the inside of Carina's arm, her eyes closed as if she was in deep thought.

"Your blood is special," Shansa remarked, her eyes still shut, "You come from both nobility and piracy."

"Er… thanks?" Carina responded, not knowing why Shansa was telling her what she already knew about herself.

"This blood... this blood is capable of great beauty. Of life and love. But..." Shansa paused for a moment, and then opened her eyes and gave Carina a concerned look, "capable also of great anger, violence... suffering."

"What do you mean?" Carina asked, starting to become quite concerned with what Shansa was telling her.

"You carry a bright light within yourself, Carina," Shansa said, "But beware, for where there is light is also darkness."

 _"Ahem!"_ Barbossa interrupted, realizing that Shansa may have said too much already. Shansa did a double-take back at the older pirate, and then said, "Forgive me, Carina. I did not wish to alarm you. Sometimes I cannot help myself from reading people's emotions. It is my own curse, I suppose."

"No, no it's fine," Carina told her, even though deep down she knew it wasn't true. Frankly, she was freaking out and just doing a good job of not showing it.

"I suppose Hector wants to talk to you alone now," Shansa said, "I will be outside should you need me."

"Thank ye kindly, Shansa," Barbossa responded to her, and with that Shansa left the lounge, leaving Carina and Barbossa alone with each other.

Carina began to rub her temples and said, "God, I need another drink."

Almost automatically, Barbossa went over to a nearby cabinet in the room, opened it, and pulled out a bottle of brandy and two mugs.

"Ye'll have to forgive Shansa," Barbossa began as he set the mugs down on a small table by the fireplace, "She tends to have a flair for the dramatic. I suppose that's what ye get when ye live with a witch."

"I'll say," Carina continued, "And you _married_ her?"

"Well, like I said, we ain't exactly married," Barbossa continued, pouring brandy into the mugs, "It's not even a traditional marriage, really. More like a... a business arrangement, if ye will."

"Ahh, the pragmatic approach. I should've known," Carina remarked, "That makes more sense, since I never took you to be the romantic type."

"Nor is Shansa. But enough on that matter, I only wanted ye to meet her," Barbossa finished, picking up one of the mugs of brandy and sitting down in his armchair by the fireplace.

Carina took off her hat and swapped it for the mug still sitting on the small table, and sat down in the chair opposite of Barbossa.

"What shall we drink to?" Barbossa inquired.

"Oh, I dunno…" Carina began, thinking on it for a moment, "... maybe... another day alive?"

"I'll definitely drink to that," Barbossa said, raising his mug. Carina smirked and raised hers as well, and the two of them clinked their mugs together, followed by drinking down what was inside.

"So tell me," Barbossa spoke up after finishing his drink, "What truly brings ye to my home?"

Carina leaned back against her chair and crossed her legs. Pulling the mug away from her lips, she said, "It's been awhile since we'd seen each other last. I thought we might catch up after all these months."

"Very well, then," Barbossa decided to go along, "Yer crew givin' ye any grief?"

"None so far that I've noticed," Carina said, "Gibbs has been helping me out loads with keeping the _Pearl_ in good order."

"Good man," Barbossa remarked, "There's lots ye can learn still from a man like Gibbs."

"I've learned a lot from you already," Carina remarked with a wink, and Barbossa grinned at the courtesy his young protégé was showing him.

"Well... I did the best I could. And yer not dead yet, so I figured I must have done somethin' right," Barbossa chuckled, proud of what she had accomplished, and Carina did the same. Afterwards the two of them took another drink.

After a lengthy pause, Barbossa's demeanor became more serious, and he broke the silence by saying, "Ye know, he'd be proud of you. Your dad."

Carina averted her gaze from the older pirate, choosing instead to concentrate on her mug that she held in both hands and drumming her fingers along the side. She sighed, and then after another moment's silence, she said, "I know he would be."

An uncomfortable silence held in the air afterward. No more words needed to be spoken between them for them to understand what the other was thinking. Neither of them could forget what had happened a year ago.

"I miss him," Carina finally spoke, her voice absent of any emotion.

"Aye, as do I," Barbossa began, trying to comfort her, "But if there was one thing Jack lived by, it was that a man should be able to make his own choices in life. And he made his choice."

"I know, I just..." Carina hesitated, "I wish that there had been another way. Maybe I could've done something different or... I don't know."

"Ye can't blame yerself for what happened, Carina," Barbossa consoled her, "Jack made his choice, and you are breathing right now because of it. There's nothin' ye can do to change that. But what ye _can_ do is try to look for a way forward."

"And I have been," Carina responded, "Did you think I've just been sitting on my arse for the past year? No, I've been out doing exactly what you trained me to do."

"And do ye feel content with it yet?" Barbossa asked.

"I guess," Carina shrugged, "I've had... varying degrees of success."

"Give it time, ye'll ease into it soon enough," Barbossa reassured her, "Remember what I told ye: have the loyalty of yer men, the fear of yer enemies..."

"... and the respect of all. I remember," Carina finished, remembering one of Barbossa's key lessons to her.

"See? Yer fine. And hey, even if ye have run into a spot of bad luck today, that's usually a sure sign of the winds changin' in yer favor tomorrow," Barbossa finished.

"Well, I think tomorrow might have already come," Carina began, rummaging around the inside of her overcoat for a moment, "I found something that might interest you."

"What are ye talkin' about?" Barbossa asked, curious.

"Sorry Hector, I lied. The reason for my visit is more than a social call," Carina apologized.

"Eh, I figured as much," Barbossa responded, "So, what have ye got?"

"I found this," Carina said, pulling out a small scroll from inside her coat, "It was stashed inside an abandoned Spanish fort off of Hispaniola. The gang occupying the fort thought this to be highly valuable, moreso than the gold they had."

Carina unrolled the scroll and set it down upon the table between her and Barbossa. Barbossa then picked up the parchment from the table and used the light from the fire to illuminate the sketches.

Barbossa's eyes scanned the parchment, taking in the image depicted. After a moment, his eyes slowly started to widen, and his hands began to tremble slightly. He swallowed hard, realizing what he was holding.

"Does that mean anything to you? _Aegis?"_ Carina inquired.

"It's nothing," Barbossa answered, "Probably just a scribe's drawing."

Carina raised an eyebrow, seeing through the lie.

"Come on now, I'm not stupid," Carina told him, "That gang went through a lot of trouble to get that scroll, so I know it must be more than just a drawing."

"Alright, fine," Barbossa relented, placing the scroll back down upon the table, "What ye got here is the _Aegis,_ the shield of the goddess Athena."

Carina's eyes widened in surprise, because while at one point she would've dismissed something like this as fairy-tale nonsense, she had dealt with her fair share of the supernatural, so this must be the genuine article she had come across.

"The shield of _Athena?"_ Carina asked aloud, "Well, this just got a whole lot more interesting. What do you know of it?"

"Only that it was mentioned in the _Iliad_ more than once," Barbossa answered her, "But if it truly is real, then you and I both know what this could mean."

"Another artifact of immense power?" Carina offered.

"Or something that mortal men were never meant to trifle with," Barbossa concluded, "Legend describes the _Aegis_ as being a weapon of war, borne by Athena in battle. It not only grants the bearer protection from his enemies, but is able to strike fear into the hearts of other men and drive entire armies back. The blue eyes of sapphire bring with them the wrath and fury of the gods."

Carina hung onto Barbossa's every word, increasingly intrigued with what the Shield of Athena could do. From the sound of it, it sounded as if it was roughly on par with the Trident of Poseidon in terms of power (though since it was destroyed there was no way to know the full extent of its capabilities).

Barbossa locked eyes with Carina, taking note of her apparent interest in this matter, and his brow furrowed.

"Ye don't plan on finding it yerself, do ye?" Barbossa asked of her, greatly concerned at this point.

Carina hesitated for a moment before answering with, "Well, since I already found this scroll, and you just described the things the shield can do, I don't see a reason why not."

"Have ye been listening to me?" Barbossa asked, "The power of the gods is not somethin' to be trifled with. Believe me, I have a _lot_ of experience in that arena, and this is a path ye don't want to start down."

"How would you know what I want?" Carina retorted, "Maybe going after this is precisely what I do want."

"Carina, yer a bright girl, but I'm telling ye it's foolish to consider doin' this," Barbossa warned her.

"I didn't come here to argue with you, Hector. I came to ask for your help," Carina tried to shift the direction of the conversation, but Barbossa wouldn't have any of it.

"Fer the last time, _don't_ go after the shield!" Barbossa argued at her, "It's more trouble than it's worth. You remember what happened with the Trident, you of all people should know what that cost."

The words came out of his mouth before Barbossa could stop himself. Immediately he became pale and rigid, and he looked upon Carina to find her mouth slightly agape and her gaze unwavering from him.

"How dare you," Carina spoke with venom in her voice. It was not rage or volume that filled her tone, but the bitter calmness is what scared Barbossa the most. He realized he had crossed a line with her that should never have been crossed.

"Carina, I- I'm sorry..." Barbossa managed to get the words out, "I didn't mean to-"

Carina silenced him by motioning his hand out towards him telling him to save it. Afterwards she picked up the scroll and her hat from the table and stood herself up. Barbossa quickly did the same before she could leave the room.

"Goodbye, Hector," Carina coldly spoke to Barbossa before turning on her heel to leave.

"Carina, wait!" Barbossa interjected, "I wasn't trying to insult you-"

"Don't patronize me," Carina interrupted, but Barbossa continued anyway, saying, "I don't want to see you get hurt!"

Carina turned around to face Barbossa and replied, "And so you bring up how my father died to try and stop me?"

"I'm askin' ye to use yer head because I don't want to see another Sparrow die!" Barbossa nearly bellowed, "When Jack died, I made a promise to keep ye safe, because _that's_ what he wanted fer you!"

Carina did not respond immediately, instead choosing to stare at Barbossa for a good long moment as she inhaled through her nose.

"You know..." Carina began, averting her gaze, "... people still don't know who I am. They don't think of me as a real pirate, just a girl who's pretending to be one. They don't believe that I am who I say I am, and that I'm just a poser using the Sparrow name. And then sometimes I catch myself thinking... that they may be right."

"Carina..." Barbossa said, somber.

"My father was Jack Sparrow," Carina continued, "and he had a legacy. I don't want to be the one that tarnishes his name. But now... now I have an opportunity to make that name... _my_ name... mean something. It's not about blood, it's about being worthy."

Barbossa placed his hands on Carina's shoulders, and he said, "You already are. _You_ are Jack's legacy."

Carina shook her head, saying "It's not enough."

As Carina hung her head down, Barbossa remained silent, realizing there was nothing he could say or do to change her mind about pursuing this course of action.

Lifting her head back up, Carina said, "Help me. Help me find the shield."

Barbossa knew this part was coming, but he had to admit that he was not entirely prepared for Carina's request. He had spent the past year finally trying to build an honest living for himself, and now he was being offered the chance to be a pirate once more.

"I... can't," Barbossa answers her, taking his hands off her shoulders. And it's not only because he had built this new life for himself and Shansa, nor is it that he swore that he was done from piracy given all the evil he had done. No, he couldn't afford to see Carina get hurt in her perilous quest. Maybe he was a coward for not saying yes, maybe not.

"I understand," Carina replied simply. Barbossa hoped she did.

Slowly, Carina turned around, placed her hat upon her head, and exited the lounge. Barbossa did not immediately follow.

Carina made her way over to the dining area where her crew and Barbossa's workers were drunken and content, still singing shanties after all this time.

 _"I thought I heard the old man say,"_ Murtogg was singing now.

 _"Leave her, Johnny, leave her,"_ the chorus rang out.

 _"Tomorrow ye will get yer pay,"_ Mullroy sung next.

 _"And it's time for us to leave her,"_ the chorus sung again.

Carina leaned against the doorway, a slightly amused expression on her face as she watched her men be content for this brief period of time. Soon enough they would be on their own quest for the Shield of Athena, and Carina knew that some of these men not might live to see it through.

She decided that she would head to Tortuga first before officially setting out on their quest. Maybe she could get more information on the Shield that would help her find it, and then she could pick up the necessary equipment for the _Pearl_ as well.

Once the singing finished, the men started roaring with laughter.

"Alright boys, this has been great fun, but I think it's time that we get going," Carina instructed them.

"Aww, already?" a drunken Pintel replied, "But Captain, we was 'aving such a goooooood time."

"Yes, well, I'm glad everyone got their fill," Carina said, "But we don't want to intrude on Barbossa's company any further, do we?"

There was incomprehensible mumbling from the lot of them that Carina could guess was probably agreement. Afterwards they all got up out of their chairs and began to follow Carina outside back towards the ship.

* * *

After everyone was back at their stations (as best as they could be granted the majority of them were drunk), Gibbs, probably the most sober of the crew at that time, made his way over to Carina who was giving orders to man the topsails.

"Captain," Gibbs called out to her, and Carina turned around to answer, "Yes, Mr. Gibbs?"

"The sun's not fully set yet," Gibbs began, "I was under the impression that we'd be staying longer. Why are we leaving so soon?"

"We got what we came for," Carina replied, "a good evening with Barbossa to reward the crew for their efforts."

"I don't mean to impose, but you've never been one to spontaneously do something unless it was for a really important reason," Gibbs continued.

"And you wouldn't consider this important?" Carina held her arms out to mean she was speaking for the whole of the ship, "It helps with the morale."

"It had somethin' to do with that scroll, didn't it?" Gibbs asked rhetorically.

"Maybe, maybe not," Carina said, "To the wheel now, Mr. Gibbs. We sail for Tortuga."

"Aye aye, Captain," Gibbs replied, albeit without too much enthusiasm as he saluted her. Afterwards he walked over to the helm to take the wheel.

Once Gibbs was gone, Carina pulled her compass from her belt, and opened the lid to see where it might lead her. Observing the needle, she figured that this might be leading her to the Shield already. She could go after it right now if she wanted, but she decided it was best to wait and acquire the necessary information and supplies before doing so.

Closing the compass, she looked towards the inland mass to see Barbossa standing just outside his home, staring right at the ship. Carina knew that he hadn't meant to offend, but there was nothing he could do to change her mind about this. It was this gut feeling she had that told her that finding the Shield was the right course of action.

In another moment, the ship weighed anchor, and the _Pearl_ was out on the open seas once more.

Barbossa watched as the ship shrunk into the distance, until eventually it disappeared over the horizon. He sighed, fearing the worst and hoping for the best, praying that no harm would come to Carina. Afterwards, he walked back inside his home and made his way over to his wardrobe, opening it up to reveal not only his workman's clothing, but a large chest inside as well.

Pulling the chest out, Barbossa unlocked it and opened the lid, revealing a number of personal effects he had not touched for many months. Inside lay his classic pirate garb, the one he had worn for most of his life, complete with the wide-brimmed and feathered hat he was attached to. In addition there were a number of firearms that lay next to the clothing, including a large quantity of pistols and his blunderbuss cane that he had no more use for.

Sitting on top of them all was the Sword of Triton, the weapon he had claimed from Blackbeard upon defeating him years back at the Fountain of Youth. It was not a normal broadsword, for it possessed the ability to control ships and other forms of black magic.

Barbossa picked up the sword and started to gaze upon it intently. This, like the Trident and the Shield, was a weapon that contained great supernatural power, one that proved to be of great use to him in his piratical career.

But he was done now. He had no further need of the sword. So, he kept it locked away in his home.

"Hector?" Shansa's voice called from behind him, and Barbossa jumped slightly in surprise, still holding onto the sword.

"Ah, Shansa. Ye spooked me for a moment there," Barbossa played it off with a smile, but it was clear to the witch that more was troubling him.

"Carina is a strong woman," Shansa began, "You have to trust that she will make her own decisions."

"I know, I know," Barbossa said, "It's just... I feel responsible for her. I failed Jack in life. I cannot fail him in death."

"And you have not," Shansa continued, walking slowly towards Barbossa, "You did exactly what you promised you would do. You have given her all the skills she needs to survive."

Barbossa supposed she was right, and then turned back around again to gaze at the sword more. Shansa walked over and placed her hands on his shoulders, looking down at the blade Barbossa held in his hands.

"Tell me, Hector," Shansa began again, "why have you kept all of these things?"

"The better part of my life was spent at sea," Barbossa told her, "These things are who I was, not who I am."

"Ah, but while you may have moved on, you will always be a pirate at heart," Shansa said.

"But I'm not a pirate," Barbossa said, "Not anymore."

He kneeled down to set the sword back down on top of his other effects. He closed the lid, and stood back up.

"I'm a good man, or at least I'm trying to be one," Barbossa said, "I've lived a bad life, Shansa."

"Bad, maybe. But make no mistake that you have lived a great one, Hector," Shansa remarked.

Barbossa turned around to face Shansa, and then he smiled and said, "Come here."

Shansa smiled as well, and they came together for a gentle embrace. They rocked together slowly, turning themselves slightly in place as they had this moment to themselves.

Once they had essentially swapped places, Barbossa looked down towards the chest where his effects lay. He said that he was done with the pirate's life, but was he really? Was he still a pirate at heart just like Shansa had said? Barbossa did not know.

The only thing he did know is that when observing Triton's sword, he never realized after all this time that there was only a single red sapphire on the hilt, and what looked like empty slots for other jewels.

* * *

 **A/N: I am SUPER sorry for not updating sooner. A little thing called life got in the way of story progress lol. I just had severe writer's block when it came to this chapter, but now I think I've gotten what I wanted from it. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed, and as always be sure to read, review, and share.**

 **More is to come soon, and I'll have more time to write more chapters. I don't have an exact timeframe on the next chapter, but let it be known that it will come soon enough.**

 **Be sure to review and/or PM me if you have any comments or questions.**

 **Thank you all and stay classy!**

 **-Spent**


	7. First Blood

It was approaching dusk now, and Henry was confined within the walls of Port Charles' jail. He had been tossed into a cell with five other men, and sat in silence for the past several hours. He dared not to speak to the other ruffians, partially because he just was not in the mood for it. Instead, he took residence in the corner closest to the wall, knees brought close to his chest as he anxiously tapped his foot.

Henry realized that he should have seen this coming sooner or later. Technically he had not deserted, but since there were no living witnesses to what happened aboard the _HMS Monarch_ last year, there was no way that he could convince anyone of his innocence. Granted, afterwards he had allied himself with pirates and fought against the Royal Navy, but he was not imprisoned on those charges.

Why did Scarfield target him specifically? Who had given him that authority? Was he just so consumed with vengeance for what had happened that he wanted to go after everyone involved?

Henry had no answers. All he could do at this point was keep his head down until a solution could present itself. He had no idea what that would be.

As Henry continued to sit in silence, one of the criminals inside the cell, an older man with a bald patch and missing teeth, said "What're ye in fer?"

Henry didn't answer, instead choosing to avoid eye contact.

"Oi, pipsqueak!" the man spoke louder again, "Are ye deaf? I said - what're ye in fer?"

"I don't feel like talking right now," Henry looked up at him and answered.

"Oh, well that's too bad, 'cause I want to know what ye did te get yerself tossed in 'ere," he continued, "I'm in 'ere for _murder_ they say. I had a... _disagreement_ with a fella in this one bar. Poor bastard 'ad 'is gob filled with shot."

Henry was starting to become a little nervous, and chose to stop talking because he had no desire to speak any further with this guy.

"Tell me yours," the man said again, and then one of his friends, a heavyset man with black hair, said "Yeah, I'm curious what a lad like yourself did to get tossed in 'ere."

"Desertion," Henry curtly replied, "you happy?"

"Oooooh! Got a temper, don't we?" the balding man flashed what few of his yellowed teeth he had left, "That's not very nice, is it boys?"

Henry then noticed the other men in the cell came to stand at the balding man's sides, each looking straight at him with malevolent intent.

"Suppose we ought to learn 'im some manners," he said, cracking his knuckles.

Henry slowly started to pick himself up, alert and at attention at the five men who where now standing before him.

"I don't want any trouble, alright?" Henry tried to diffuse the situation with as much courage as he could muster.

"Too late," the balding man said, and suddenly he struck forward and his fist made contact with Henry's face. He stumbled backwards into the bars of his cell, and he said, "Stop! Please!"

"Stop? We're just getting started!" the heavyset man said as he grabbed onto the front of his shirt and headbutted him. Henry stumbled back into the cell bars again, and turned himself around and shouted out "HELP! SOMEONE HELP! I'M BEING ATTACKED!"

"Ain't nobody going ta 'ear you squeal, boy," the balding man said, "Yer locked in 'ere with us."

Two of the men grabbed Henry's arms and turned him around to face the balding man. The heavyset man came from behind and locked his meaty arms around Henry's neck, and afterwards the balding man started to punch Henry repeatedly in the stomach.

"Stop it! _PLEASE!"_ Henry cried out, taking in all the pain that the thugs were dealing out towards him. The balding man landed a particularly hard blow on Henry that caused his head to droop down.

"Doesn't matter who you are out there, 'cause in here you're nobody!" the balding man leaned down and snarled.

Slowly, Henry's head lifted up, and right away the balding man knew that something was up.

He was _sm_ _iling._

Henry's brow furrowed as he continued to wickedly grin, and the look on his face sent a shiver down the balding man's spine.

"You just made a serious mistake, _amigo,"_ Henry told him, with a glint of amber in his brown eyes.

* * *

Will and Bootstrap had made their way over to the prison in Port Charles. It was near curfew, so the both of them knew that they could not stay out for much longer. If the Redcoats caught them out this late scoping out the jail, then they would be arrested themselves. So they exercised caution as they made their approach.

The pair of them laid down behind some tall grass nearby the rear entrance to the prison. Lying there for a few moments, Bootstrap turned to his son and asked "Any idea how we're getting in?"

"This side's no better than the front," Will observed, "They got sentries posted on the rooftops as well as the doors. No way we're getting through this kind of security."

"This place is thicker with Englishmen than the streets of London," Bootstrap commented, "Henry could be anywhere inside there."

"I know, father. But we have to try," Will said, "He came through to save us, and I'll be damned before I let anything happen to him."

Will looked over to one of the doors to see two soldiers standing guard by one of the doors. If they could avoid the rooftop sentries, they might be able to make their way past.

"We need to find a way past those guards over there," Will pointed at the doorway he was observing, "But what?"

Bootstrap observed their immediate surroundings to see what they could work with, and saw a nearby guard post with its door wide open.

"Will, look," Bootstrap said, directing his attention towards the guard post, "Maybe we can disguise ourselves and they'd be none the wiser."

Will's eyes lit up and he looked to have a keen interest in Bootstrap's idea. Afterwards they slowly snuck their way over towards the guard post and looked inside to see that only one Redcoat was occupying it, and he looked to be asleep in his chair.

Will started scouring the place for a uniform he could use, while Bootstrap kept his eyes and his pistol close on the sleeping soldier.

After he had found a suitable uniform was done dressing, Will turned around to face his father and asked, "How do I look?"

"Like an idiot," and father and son exchanged a brief chuckle.

The soldier started to stir, and afterwards he opened his eyes to see Will and Bootstrap standing there.

"Oi," the soldier weakly began, and Will and Bootstrap looked alarmed at him.

"I don't recognize y-" the soldier began, but Bootstrap quickly whacked him in the head with the butt of his pistol, knocking him out again.

"Quick thinking," Will complimented, looking back towards his father, "Now we need to get you into uniform-"

"I got a better idea," Bootstrap spoke up, holding his pistol out towards Will. At first Will was confused, but after a moment he eventually got what he was trying to tell him.

A few minutes after that, Will was escorting Boostrap up towards the prison, holding the pistol at his back. Bootstrap held his arms behind his back to give off the impression that he was Will's prisoner so that they could sneak past the guards.

"This is never going to work," Will told his father.

"It'll work," Bootstrap reassured him.

"No it won't," Will retorted.

"Will," Bootstrap said.

"Won't," Will said.

"Will," Bootstrap said.

"Won't," Will said.

This continued on for a few more moments before the two of them came close to the door and the sentries guarding it.

"Hold, you! State your business," one of the soldiers addressed Will.

"Evening, gentlemen," Will said, trying to sound like a posh Londoner as much as possible, "Caught this skulk hanging around the docks trying to commandeer a schooner."

"Arrrg, and I would've gotten away with it too had you not interfered!" Bootstrap answered, trying to sound like a stereotypical pirate.

"Keep quiet, prisoner," Will said, and he addressed the soldiers again saying, "I've arrested this criminal and am taking him to be imprisoned in... prison."

The sentries looked confused, and Will gulped realizing that this ruse wasn't going to last.

"I've escaped a thousand jails like these, and I'll escape a thousand more before I perish from this Earth!" Bootstrap replied.

"Yeah..." the one sentry began, "you're supposed to turn in prisoners at the front entrance, not the rear."

Will froze for a moment. "Really? I was not informed."

The other sentry said, "What's your name and rank, soldier?"

"It's Private John... Burgess," Will said, trying to lie as best as he could, and he knew this ruse had run it's course.

"I'm going to have to ask you to come with us and-" the soldier began, but before he could finish both Will and Bootstrap attacked the soldiers and knocked the pair of them out cold.

Checking their surroundings, they noticed that none of the other soldiers had been alerted to their brief scuffle. So, Will took the keys off of the one soldier and used them to open the door, and he and Bootstrap slipped inside.

"John Burgess?" Bootstrap inquired.

"It's the best I could come up with, alright?" Will sternly responded, "Now all we need to do is find Henry."

They started to search the hallways of the prison, careful to not alert any of the guards patrolling or to let any of the prisoners suspect they were not where they were supposed to be. After a considerable amount of time searching, they still could not find Henry in any one of the cells.

"Where could he be?" Will asked.

The pair of them were walking by another cell when they stopped and saw a most horrific sight. The cell was completely devoid of people, but there was blood staining all over the floor.

"Jesus..." Bootstrap commented, "That's a lot of blood."

Will's breath started to pick up in terror. Something had happened here, and Henry still had not been found. Had he somehow been involved with this? Will shuddered, hoping that that hadn't been the case.

The two of them tore their eyes away from the ghastly scene and continued on looking for Henry. After another long while, the pair of them stopped walking and Will said, "He's not here."

"Where did they take him to?" Bootstrap asked, "You don't think- did they-"

"No, they didn't. Couldn't," Will nervously spoke, "We just have to keep looking."

As soon as they were about to start walking again, they heard a door open from down the hallway, and saw two officers step out engaged in heavy conversation. Will and Bootstrap hid themselves in a corner and started to listen in on the officers.

"... back in a few weeks time. But until then, I'm glad that the Commodore won't be around to bark orders at me every two minutes," the one officer said.

"Why do you think he does it?" the other officer asked.

"Dunno. There's a rumor going around that he lost all his crew to pirates and it's gotten him on edge. As long as he don't try to take it out on me, I don't care," the first continued.

"But to go out of your way halfway across the West Indies to arrest _one_ deserter? Seems a bit extreme, don't you think?" the second officer responds.

Will realized now they were talking about Henry.

"If you'd seen what had happened earlier, you'd think the Commodore was being mild," the first officer told him with a bit of apprehension in his voice.

Will and Bootstrap now became very concerned about what happened.

"So where are they off to now, anyway?" the second officer asked.

"Port Royal, I think. That's where the deserter was posted. Figure that he'd want the trial to be there. Left a few hours ago on the _Sword,"_ the first officer continued.

"Well, at least now he's off our arses, so I'm glad he left," the second officer answered, "Come on now, let's go get a drink."

"I could definitely use one right now," the first officer said, "There was just so much _blood..."_

The officers continued their conversation down another hallway, and both Will and Bootstrap were in stunned silence by what they just learned.

Henry was still alive. But what exactly had he done?

"Port Royal," Will relayed to his father, "They're going to Port Royal."

"Let's hope Norrington's returned with the _Dutchman,"_ Bootstrap replied, and they began to make their way out towards the back entrance from which they came. Once they stepped out of the back entrance, they were greeted by the sight of six soldiers holding out their muskets with bayonets fixed. Two of the soldiers were the sentries they had incapacitated earlier.

"You're buggered now, pirates," one of them said.

With a burst of adrenaline, Will and Bootstrap started to fight the six soldiers. Being as experienced as they were, they quickly took down them all without killing any of them. Afterwards they each grabbed a musket and took off running towards the grassy hills. Before they could escape the area, a single gunshot rang out through the night.

"AGH!" Bootstrap cried, collapsing to the ground. Will stopped running and turned around to see his father lying on the ground.

"FATHER!" Will rushed over to Bootstrap's side.

"I'm fine," he told his son, "Ball just got me in the leg but it hurts like a-"

Bootstrap's comment on his wound was cut off by an alarm bell sounding off and the shouts of British soldiers.

"Oh God," Will said, taking his tricorn hat off of his head. He looked down at Bootstrap's leg to see that the ball had gone clean through. He would live, but if they didn't get out of here they might not see tomorrow come.

"We have to go, now," Will told his father, "Can you walk?"

"I don't know," Bootstrap said, "Just leave me here! Go!"

"No, no! I'm not leaving you here you old bastard!" Will told him. He then picked him up off the ground and slung his father's arm around his shoulder. The both of them held onto each other as well as their muskets.

"Come on, let's go!" Will said, dragging his father along before the Redcoats could catch up to them.

"They're over there! Open fire!" One of them shouted, and soon enough more gunshots sounded. Will and Bootstrap ducked onto the ground to avoid the bullets, and they realized they had to make a stand.

With their muskets in hand, they fired back against the Redcoats, taking down a few before moving again. Afterwards they took cover behind a large rock before they could fire again, and the Turners defended themselves once again.

"Only a few left, lets get moving!" Will picked up Bootstrap and took off again, discarding their muskets for they had no more ammunition to spare. Eventually, they made it to the forest, and they were dodging through trees and bushes to evade the Redcoats that remained.

After a short while, they looked to see if anyone was still in pursuit. But nobody was.

"I think we lost them," Will said, "Hopefully they didn't see our faces."

"Let's just get back to the house. Elizabeth's probably worrying where we've been, and my leg hurts like hell right now," Bootstrap replied.

"Right," Will responded. With that, the pair of them started to make their way back home.

While walking back, Will kept replaying what he had heard inside the prison. Scarfield was now taking Henry to Port Royal to face trial on the charge of desertion. But something else had happened in the prison today, something that had prompted immediate action. What was it? And was it connected to the blood they found inside that cell?

Will had no answers for himself. All he knew is that Norrington had better come back with the _Dutchman_ real soon.

* * *

Henry's eyes snapped open, and he was greeted at the sight of a wooden ceiling. He felt his body tilting on what felt like a smooth but uneven surface. It was then that he realized that he was aboard a ship, but why? He didn't remember coming aboard, nor does he remember when he lost consciousness.

Henry felt that he had a headache, and so he lifted his hand and pressed it to his forehead and his fingers to his temples. This was one strange day.

After a moment, Henry felt something most peculiar on his fingertips. It felt slightly sticky and wet, and it felt like it was now sticking to his forehead. Concerned, he removed his hand from his head to see what it was, and the sight horrified him to the bone.

His hand was covered in blood.

"GAH!" Henry screamed, pushing himself backwards against the floor at the sight of the blood. Had he been injured severely by those criminals and simply passed out?

Henry looked to his other hand and was terrified to see that it was also covered in blood, and then looked to see that part of his shirt was soaked with it as well. He then nervously started to check himself for any cuts or cavities, but all he could find were mere bruises from the criminals' fists.

What was going on?

As if on cue, he heard the sound of a door being unlocked, and Henry turned his head in the direction of the noise. He saw that he was caged within the brig of a ship, with wrought-iron bars blocking his escape. Beyond that, a wooden door swung open, and there stood Scarfield, hands behind his back and an arrogant sneer on his face.

"You're finally awake," Scarfield noted with an uncaring tone.

"Wh- what happened?" Henry asked, "Where am I?"

"Oh come on, don't play the fool with me, boy," Scarfield shot back, "You know exactly what happened."

"No, I really don't!" Henry argued, "Why am I covered in blood?"

"Because you're the one who spilled it, Mr. Turner," Scarfield stated simply.

Henry's face went pale.

What the _hell_ was going on?

"Wh- what? What do you mean?" Henry stammered, his terror never leaving his face.

"You killed five men with your bare hands," Scarfield explained, "An impressive feat considering that all of the men in that cell with you have been known to do that for a living, but ghastly all the same."

Henry looked away from Scarfield, not believing what he was hearing. He doesn't remember killing _anybody._

"We're on our way to Port Royal now where you will be tried for desertion... and murder," Scarfield paused for effect.

Henry was in utter disbelief. The last thing he remembers is those criminals beating him to a bloody pulp, and now he's being told that he _killed_ them all with his _bare hands?_ He had killed men before, but never bare-handed. This was preposterous.

"Sleep well, and think on your sins," Scarfield finished, and with that he closed the door behind him and left Henry there all alone.

Henry stared down at the blood on his hands. He would've remembered doing something like that. Was Scarfield lying, and simply trying to pin something else on him? Or did he really kill those men, and somehow had no recollection of those events?

He could not make himself fall asleep. He was trying to wrap his head around what happened. And the gnawing feeling he had had for the past year came flooding back. His breath shuddered, and he felt like he wasn't in control of himself.

But he was. Wasn't he?

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, this chapter was darker than I had originally anticipated it being. Sorry for the delay but I promise that I will be writing more chapters soon. I've found my muse again! Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed reading, and as always be sure to review and PM if you have any comments or questions. Thank you all and stay classy!**

 **\- Spent**


	8. Old Enemies, New Problems

The sun had set over the horizon, and the _Black Pearl_ continued to glide across the ocean towards Tortuga. There was a general calmness aboard the ship, mostly due to the fact that the majority of the crew were drunk beyond all sense from earlier.

After lighting the lamps on the top deck, Pintel and Ragetti leaned back against the starboard rail, still trying to sober themselves back up again. Ragetti took a moment to remove his glass eye from the socket and started to rub at it with a piece of cloth.

"Oi," Pintel slurred, eyes drooping and barely able to stand, "when was the last time we had as good a time as we did today?"

"Last week," Ragetti replied matter-of-factly, only slightly more sober than his friend.

 _"Really?"_ Pintel squinted his eyes, "It must've been good because I can't recall a bloody thing."

Pintel and Ragetti both drunkenly laughed, and afterwards Ragetti placed his glass eye back in the socket.

"I thi-" Ragetti hiccupped, "I think that... we were so drunk that... we started to race donkeys. Or was that another time?"

"Eh, who cares?" Pintel said, "As long as a sailor has a bottle in his hand, he's happy."

They both laughed again, but Ragetti stopped all of a sudden as he felt the night air at his back. Pintel noticed this and asked, "Alright there?"

"Alright," Ragetti said, rubbing the back of his neck. He squinted, then started to look back and forth across the deck of the _Pearl,_ where the sailors that weren't passed out drunk were working the sails at night. Cotton was up at the ship's wheel once again.

"Just a funny feelin' I got," Ragetti added.

"Probably just the drink," Pintel commented, "Come on now, let's sleep it off."

"Yeah," Ragetti replied, and he wrapped his arm around Pintel's shoulder. Pintel did likewise.

No sooner had the pirates started to walk back towards the door into the lower decks that the both of them passed out and fell onto the top deck. In moments the pair of them started to snore, laying awkwardly next to each other.

As they snored away, none of the men on the deck saw the faint image of a ship drawing closer to them.

Carina was in her cabin, hunched forward in her chair as she peered through her telescope into the night sky. Adjusting the lens, she was able to make out the constellations of Cancer and nearby Gemini. Leaning back, she marked their locations on a star chart she had laid out on a desk next to her.

Before she finished marking down all of Gemini's stars, Carina abruptly stopped. Laying down her pencil, she rested her elbow against the desk and rested her head against the palm of her hand. Even her passion for astronomy wasn't enough to take her mind off of what had happened earlier. She knew Barbossa meant well, but his words still cut like a blade. She knew she was capable of finding the Shield on her own, and nothing he said would convince her to change her mind. Nothing was going to stop her from trying.

Still, Carina wished that she and Barbossa had parted on better terms. She had hoped at least that he would aid her on her quest, but it seemed as if this was no longer a possibility. But she understood; Barbossa had retired from piracy, finally able to achieve the peace that had eluded him for years. She wouldn't deny him of that, nor would he deny her her desire to be a pirate.

Her eyes rested upon the desk drawer, and Carina slid it open to reveal a small, leather-bound journal with an indentation on the front cover, where a blood red ruby once lay. She picked up Galileo's diary and held it in hand, thinking back to when her mother first gave her the book as a girl. If only she knew then what she knew now, that she would grow up to find the legendary Trident of Poseidon and see things beyond her wildest imaginations. Carina smirked at the idea, realizing just how far she had come.

Her lifelong dream was to be an astronomer, for this book's scribblings had inspired her to look towards the heavens for guidance. Unfortunately for her, her opportunities were limited just because of her being a woman. But now, here she was, a captain of her very own pirate ship, determined to never let anything hold her back ever again.

Observing the book, it crossed her mind that Galileo was also limited by his time as well. But somehow, he not only was able to discover vital knowledge on how the universe worked, but was able to find the Trident of Poseidon without anyone to help guide him.

Though, that brought another thought to her mind: if Galileo had found the Trident, why had he chosen to leave it behind? Why create clues for someone else to follow?

Carina had no answers, for Galileo had never explained why in his diary. He had taken the ruby necessary to locating it, but for what purpose he never specified in his writings.

But it was no matter. Carina resolved to find the Shield entirely on her own, and perhaps then she could finally leave her mark on history just as her father had.

Craning her neck around, she took another long gaze at the portrait of Jack Sparrow adorning the interior wall. He had seen his fair share of the strange and supernatural throughout his life. Carina hoped she could live up to the legacy that he left behind, and be able to create her own for this world. Perhaps the Shield was her chance.

 _The legendary Captain Carina Sparrow,_ she thought, _I like the sound of that._

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of rushing wind, and Carina looked over to its source to see the candle on her desk flickering wildly. Suspicious, she slowly reached her hand closer to the little flame, but before she reached it fully the flame had died out.

Carina blinked, wondering what that was all about. None of the windows inside her cabin were open.

"Hmm... most curious," she remarked, standing herself up with her eyes transfixed on the dormant candle. Afterwards she placed the diary back inside the desk drawer, and at that precise moment more candles went out around her cabin.

Carina nervously looked around at the flickering lights, becoming wary of the situation. This was not normal in the slightest. Something strange was going on here.

Across the decks of the _Pearl,_ candles and lanterns were doused instantaneously. The pirates that were still awake were startled at the sight, and they started to wake up their sleeping compatriots to the unusual disturbance. Some were still too drunk to stand properly, but most were able to get themselves up and started to collect their weapons, fearing there was more to this sudden darkness.

Back in the captain's cabin, Carina sheathed her sword and grabbed two pistols from her private cache, and afterwards all the candles went out leaving the room covered in blackness. Afterwards, she stepped through the doors and onto the top deck where many of her crew had already gathered.

"Captain!" Gibbs called out from the horde of pirates, and then made his way over towards her.

"Mr. Gibbs," Carina addressed him, "What the hell is going on?"

"I dunno. All at once the lamps died out all over the ship," Gibbs answered her.

"Same thing just happened in my cabin," Carina added, looking away from Gibbs back and forth across the ship trying to discern the source of this strangeness.

Murtogg and Mullroy came over to where Pintel and Ragetti were passed out, and gave them both sharp kicks in the shins.

"Oi!" Pintel angrily shouted with a start, "What's goin' on?"

"Lights all went out," Murtogg answered, as he and Mullroy helped pull the other two to their feet.

"Your orders?" Gibbs asked Carina, but before she could respond to his question she looked to starboard to see something in the water just near them, partially obscured by an eerie mist.

"What's that?" Carina nervously asked, and Gibbs looked over his shoulder to see what she had pointed out. No sooner had he looked that his eyes widened in shock as he saw it.

"Ship to starboard!" Marty called out, hanging from the rigging.

"Colours?" Carina asked the dwarf.

"She isn't flying any!" he replied.

Soon enough there was panic amongst the crew. First the blackout, now a ship of unknown origin was veering in their direction.

Carina swallowed hard.

"BEAT TO QUARTERS! WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!" Carina called out, and immediately the large crowd of pirates started to rush around on the decks in haste, "ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS!"

"Make ready the starboard guns!" Gibbs relayed, pacing the _Pearl's_ top deck making sure necessary preparations were made for the battle to come. Cutlasses were brandished and cannonballs were loaded. Murtogg manned the starboard Puckle gun and Mullroy helped load in ammunition.

Carina thumbed back the hammers of her pistols and took up position in the middle deck.

"Hold fire! Wait for my command!" Carina ordered her crew.

The ship was veering closer, and the mist was thinning out.

"Hold..." Carina cautioned them.

Closer still, the ship was of a size much greater than that of the _Pearl._ The sight made some of the pirate panic.

 _"Hold..."_ Carina stressed, waiting for the opportune moment. Though this was strange, for the ship had no battering ram and made no move to angle itself for a broadside.

In another moment, the sails of the ship were visible, and Carina saw that they were white and adorned with a red cross, but this didn't appear to be an English vessel. Whatever it was, it was still a threat, and Carina was determined to fight back.

"FIRE!" Carina ordered.

"FIRE!" Gibbs relayed, and the men lit the fuses of the cannons.

Nothing happened.

"What the _devil?"_ one of the pirates spoke up, and Carina looked all around the deck to see what was going on. Why hadn't their guns fired on the ship?

"Misfire!" another pirate said as he checked the cannon. Other pirates were doing the same.

While this was happening, Carina looked back towards the ship to see that it had stopped moving towards them. It merely sat there, anchored in place right next to the starboard side of the _Pearl._

"Puckles aren't workin' either, ma'am," Mullroy spoke up, as Murtogg kept trying to pull the trigger of the weapon to no avail.

Carina looked up at the ship, slowly walking backwards as the sight of the motionless ship filled her with dread. None of the enemy crew had made their presence - or existence - known, and that scared Carina more than a battle could.

Gibbs rushed up alongside her, sword in hand, and said, "Captain! All the cannons have shorted out! Must be somethin' with the gunpowder I reckon!"

Carina didn't answer, but continued to look upon the wolf figurehead underneath the bowsprit of the ship ahead.

What exactly was going on here?

Just as if on cue, one of the pirates screamed suddenly, and right after more started to scream along with him. Carina and Gibbs pivoted themselves around instantaneously to see that most of the crew had blades to their throats, but the men holding them didn't look like any ordinary brigands.

They looked like they were wearing the armor of Crusader Knights.

"AGH!" Gibbs called out, feeling a hand seize his arm and making him drop his sword. In another moment he had a blade to his throat, and Carina immediately raised her pistols and pointed them in the knight's direction.

"Who are you!?" Carina demanded, furious, "What do you want!?"

"Forgive me, madam," Evrard spoke to her, his blade still against Gibbs' throat, "but we are not acting by choice. We were compelled to doing this."

"Oh yeah?" Carina challenged, doubtful, "By whom?"

"By me, of course," a thick, Scottish accent sounded out.

Carina directed her attention and her pistols over towards the source of the voice, and what she saw was enough to terrify her to the point of bedlam.

From the way he spoke and stood, Carina could figure him for a man, but everything else suggested otherwise. He had what looked like an octopus for a head, tentacles for a beard, a crab arm and leg where human appendages would be, and a number of crustaceans and algae covering his shabby sailor's uniform and hat. He stood out greatly from the rest of the knights that came with him, especially those within his entourage brandishing their swords, for their armor was shiny and their complexion suggested that they were still human.

But this man… this man was a monster in the purest sense.

If the knights hadn't been holding her crew hostage, Carina wouldn't have thought twice about discharging her pistols into the creature before her. Instead, she chose to retain her composure, never once taking her eyes off of him and keeping a firm grip on her weapons.

But the creature was hardly intimidated by her show of courage, instead choosing to laugh like she were nothing.

"Do you see that, Sir Robert?" he turned his head over to the knight standing to his right, and Carina saw that Sir Robert looked to be the senior-most knight among the lot, probably serving as the creature's second, "It seems that for all the prowess you Templars pride yourselves upon, this trollop seems determined to fight you all to the bitter end-ah!"

The creature continued to laugh, but Robert did not. Instead, he looked towards the deck and swallowed.

"You may have a point there, Captain Jones," Robert responded diplomatically, as if not to invoke his leader's ire.

When the knight spoke, something clicked inside Carina's mind.

"Jones?" she asked, "You mean like 'Davy Jones?'"

"The same-ah," Jones responded with a wicked grin, "And you... you are the Captain's daughter, aren't ya?"

Carina tensed up, her cheeks burning in anger towards this creature. How did he know who she was?

As if he could read her mind, Jones responded, "Oh, I know all about that pathetic worm that sired you-ah. And I can't tell you how much it pleases me to hear how he's kicked the bucket-ah!"

"Say another word against my father and I'll fill you with shot!" Carina aggressively declared, aiming her pistols carefully at him.

Jones laughed again, saying, "Oh, will ye now-ah?"

He stepped forward away from the knights, slowly walking towards her. Carina did not move, but this fact did not seem to scare Jones. In fact, he continued to smile as he made his way towards her.

While he was walking forward, Carina took notice of the spear Jones was holding. She had paid it no mind at first until she saw the glowing green crystal at the center of it. The faint humming noise emanating from it became louder as Jones drew closer to her, but Carina did her best to put on a brave face.

Soon Jones was close enough that his chest was practically pushing up against the barrels of Carina's pistols.

The smile went away from his face as he locked eyes with Carina, and then said, "Take... your... best... _shot-ah!"_

Instantaneously, Carina raised the gun in her right hand up and pressed it against Jones' forehead. How _dare_ this monster come aboard her ship, threaten her crew, and insult her father?

Without a moment's hesitation, she pulled the trigger.

 _Click!_

"What?" Carina pulled her gun away to observe it. Why hadn't it fired?

She looked up at Jones again who appeared to be laughing at her misfortune. Undeterred, Carina pulled the trigger of her other pistol, but that too misfired. Just like the _Pearl's_ cannons had earlier.

Jones raised the spear he was holding in his tentacled hand, shaking it back and forth like a child's rattle.

"Seems that you're at a bit of a disadvantage, Sparrah," he taunted.

Carina was fuming, but dared not to say another word. Jones was in control of the situation.

The creature leaned back away from Carina and said, "To tell you the truth, lass, I'm in a rather good mood tonight-ah. That's why you and your crew-ah are not dead yet."

"What do you want?" Carina asked.

"Right to the point, I admire that in a fellow captain," Jones said, "I require three members of your crew to join mine-ah."

"Why?" Carina asked, trying to play her cards just right with Jones.

"Ah!" Jones said, raising a hand, "Now that would be telling!"

"Alright," Carina said, "and if I refuse to give you any of my men?"

"Well, then I suppose we'll have to kill the lot of ye and take your ship for ourselves-ah," Jones stated simply, "But like I said, I'm in a rather good mood and I'd prefer to resolve this without bloodshed. You have thirty seconds to decide whom."

Carina looked around at her crew, who all looked terrified at that moment. With them all having blades to their throats, Carina knew there was no chance of fighting back against Jones and his men. Though it pained her, she would have to give up three of them so that the rest of them could survive.

"Five..." Jones was counting down, "four... three-"

"I'll do it!" Gibbs spoke up, and Carina looked over to him in shock, "I volunteer for the task!"

"No... no, don't do this!" Carina pleaded with him.

"It's alright, Captain," Gibbs told her, "If I don't then we'll all die here."

"No, I forbid you! That is an order, sailor!" Carina shouted at him.

"Too late, my mind's been made up," Gibbs told her, and Carina was utterly mortified how he would give himself up like this.

As Evrard let go of Gibbs, Jones said, "Well, well. Joshamee Gibbs. Never thought you'd see me again, did you?"

"Whatever you need me to do, Captain Jones, only say the word," Gibbs said, walking closer to him, "Just leave Sparrow and the crew be."

Jones did not respond to his request but merely addressed Carina again, saying, "I'll still be needing two more members of your crew-ah. But since Mr. Gibbs here was so kind enough to volunteer for the task, I'll pick two more myself-ah and save the burden on your conscience-ah."

His beady eyes scanned the faces of the crew again, and they stopped when they rested upon Pintel and Ragetti.

"You two," he raised the spear up to point at them, "You're coming with me."

The pirates' eyes widened with horror.

"Oh, no, no, that would be terribly inconvenient for you, your fishiness," Ragetti began.

"It's true!" Pintel added, "We 'aven't got 'nuff brains between us to clean the bilges right!"

"Yeah, what he said!" Ragetti continued.

Jones merely rolled his eyes, and said, "Get them on board."

Pintel and Ragetti continued to fearfully protest being pressed into Jones' service, meanwhile Gibbs kept his calm as he followed behind them towards the Templars' ship. It had been brought up alongside so the knights could board it, and they led Pintel and Ragetti across it and onto the other ship.

"Wait!" Carina said before Jones could force Gibbs onto the ship, "I wish to speak with my first mate before he goes."

Jones scoffed, and then said, "You have a minute but nothing more-ah."

He rudely pushed Gibbs over towards Carina, and Carina grabbed his arms to help him gain balance.

"Why would you do that?" Carina asked, wondering why Gibbs would put himself in such a predicament.

"There was no other way," Gibbs said.

"Don't give me that, there's _always_ another way!" Carina scolded him.

"Perhaps, but not today," Gibbs said, "Me and the boys have dealt with Jones in the past, you haven't. We'll be fine."

Carina kept silent afterwards.

"There'll be another time, trust me," Gibbs said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"How will I know when that time comes?" Carina asked her first mate.

"You'll know," Gibbs said with a smile, patting her shoulder, "You're your father's daughter after all."

Gibbs winked, and with that he turned around and boarded the Templars' ship. Afterwards the rest of the knights, including Evrard and Robert, had boarded their ship, and the last to step off was Jones.

"I spare the rest of ye with a warning," Jones began, resting his arms against the port rail of the knights' ship, "Do _not_ get in my way."

"In your way of what?" Carina asked, secretly hoping that would goad him into an honest fight.

Jones did not answer, and in a matter of moments the ship took off into the black of night.

Carina felt utterly helpless at that moment. Apparently, Davy Jones had returned from the dead, despite everything that Henry had told her about him. And not only was he alive, but now he was in command of a ship of Templar knights that shouldn't even exist in this century. And to top it all off, he had just taken three of her best men, ones that had sailed with Jack way back when.

Carina was just as confused as she was furious. Why was Jones back, and what did he hope to do with Gibbs and the others?

In lieu of answers, Carina vowed that after she got to Tortuga and resupplied the _Pearl,_ she would not rest until she had her hands on Athena's Shield and used it to wipe that bastard from the face of the Earth.

 _Father, I could use your help just about now._

* * *

 **A/N: This took less time than it did for me to write the last chapter, so I hope you guys are satisfied now that I've overcome my writer's block.** **Carina has just had her first confrontation with the dreaded Davy Jones, and you can be sure this will not be her last either. More tales of intrigue, suspense, and adventure are to come, but until then please be sure to review and PM if you have any questions or comments regarding my story. Thank you all for reading and be sure to stay classy!**

 **\- Spent**


	9. No Rest for the Wicked

Elizabeth stood at the edge of the dock, lantern in hand, looking out towards the sea. She had been waiting here since Will and Bootstrap left to try to rescue Henry from jail. In the meanwhile, Elizabeth kept an eye out for the _Flying Dutchman_ which had yet to return. Will told her that Norrington would return with a suitable crew by dusk, but it was now the dead of night where only the stars were visible.

She drew a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves after everything that had happened today. The stress wasn't good for her or the baby. The last time she had been this nervous is when Henry informed her of his decision to join the Navy. Now that he had been arrested for desertion, this only confirmed the fears she had about his path. But she knew her son was strong, and no doubt he would get out of this just as he had saved his father from eternal servitude aboard the _Dutchman._

But Henry's safety wasn't the only thing to have her on edge. What Will had told her earlier... she could not believe a word of it. It was a nightmare that kept replaying in her mind over and over again, remembering back to twenty years ago when her life had changed forever.

And Norrington...

 _Our destinies have been entwined Elizabeth... but never joined._

These were the last words that James Norrington had said to her. Elizabeth could hear the hurt in his voice and see the heartbreak in his eyes like it were only yesterday.

He had died that night. He died saving her and her crew, allowing them to escape aboard the _Empress_ and flee to safety. His death had been difficult to bear, even after facing the reality of her husband's servitude.

But now he was alive once more, Elizabeth couldn't help but feel that things were about to become a lot more complicated.

Up in the distance, she saw a spec of light, and in a few more moments the Gothic design of the _Dutchman_ came into view. Elizabeth swallowed.

On the deck of the _Dutchman,_ Norrington was looking through his spyglass over towards Port Charles' lighthouse. From there he adjusted it to look down towards the docks, and he froze as he saw Elizabeth standing at the edge of the pier.

Norrington then lowered the spyglass and looked out with his own eyes towards the pier. His breathing became more tense with every passing moment, and then ran a hand down over his mouth. Afterwards he collapsed his spyglass and looked away, resting his palms against the larboard bow rail.

"Everything alright there, Captain Norrington?" a concerned voice called out, and Norrington looked over his shoulder to see that it was Chamberlain, his newly-appointed first mate and a Royal Navy officer that had drowned during a hurricane.

"Clew up and make ready to drop anchor," Norrington responded, and then Chamberlain relayed the order to the rest of the crew, which was comprised of sailors, merchants, and pirates of different nationalities, races, and creeds.

Norrington looked back over towards the dock, and as the ship veered closer the image of Elizabeth Swann became much clearer.

Once the ship had dropped anchor and had docked, Norrington slowly walked down off of the ship and onto the pier. Since it was out over water he could walk the distance the pier afforded, but no further. While walking towards her, the both of their eyes locked.

Elizabeth lowered her lantern as Norrington came closer. Slowly, she took a few steps forward towards the former naval officer. She started to take notice of his features, recognizing he was wearing the same clothes he had died in twenty years ago, just as Will had when he returned to her. His Admiral's uniform was missing its powdered wig and looked rather filthy, but apart from that and his unkempt facial hair he looked like he had not aged a day.

Norrington, meanwhile, noticed just how much Elizabeth had changed after all these years, but thought she still looked as radiant as ever. Last time he saw her, she was a young woman with golden blonde hair and fair complexion, and even in the end retained that spark of innocence in her eyes despite all that had happened. Now, he could see that blonde hair had browned out with age, and though her complexion remained fair her skin looked darker and more mature than before. The spark of innocence he once saw in her was not gone per se, but her expression was more aloof than what he remembered, even when she expressed her bitterness for what he had done.

The both of them stopped walking, mere inches from each other, and Elizabeth set the lantern down onto the deck. The two just stared at each other in utter disbelief, the improbability of their reunion not lost on either of them.

"Captain Swann," Norrington said plainly, breaking the silence between them and attempting to be as formal as possible. This reunion wasn't for old times' sake; it was one that was necessary for the sake of the world.

"James," Elizabeth said at once, exasperated. Any formality that Norrington hoped to establish was broken the moment she had said his name. He had taken a deep breath, trying to process his thoughts and figure out what to say next.

His eyes drifted down to her swollen abdomen, whereupon he said, "Congratulations, by the way."

Elizabeth averted her gaze from Norrington, and her hand unconsciously rested itself against her stomach.

After a few more moments of awkward silence, Elizabeth spoke up, saying, "Will told me everything already. About you. About Jones. About everything."

"Elizabeth, I-" Norrington began, and without warning Elizabeth thrust herself against him and wrapped her arms around him tightly.

This caught Norrington completely off guard. Slowly, he lifted his arms up and returned Elizabeth's embrace, feeling the warmth of her body against his own. There was a point in his life where he would've believed that this would bring him great joy, but now all he feels is a hollowness within him with only a small candle burning inside.

And he's reminded of every single day he spent inside the Locker, with no hope of ever escaping or of feeling anything aside from pain ever again. Maybe he should have taken Jones up on his offer, or at least not offended him to the point that it warranted such severe punishment.

But it mattered little now. Elizabeth's heart belonged to another, and Norrington's was locked inside the Dead Man's Chest.

After a few long moments of embracing, Norrington looked upward and saw Will, dressed in a Redcoat's uniform, standing at the other end of the pier and watching them. Slung over his shoulder was the arm of Bootstrap Bill, whose right leg was crudely bandaged. Norrington winced slightly at the sight of Bootstrap, seeing as this was the man that had killed him in the first place.

He redirected his gaze at Will, who was looking at the pair of them quizzically. Realizing that he may be misinterpreting the situation, Norrington pulled back from the embrace. Elizabeth was confused as to why he suddenly stopped, but then turned around to see her husband holding onto her father-in-law, the latter looking to be injured.

"Oh my God," Elizabeth gasped, and quickly made her way over to Will's side, "What happened?"

"Gunshot," Will answered simply, struggling to support his father's weight. Elizabeth quickly helped him lower Bootstrap onto the ground, who winced from the pain, whereupon the both of them leaned down to examine the wound.

"Don't worry, Elizabeth," Bootstrap said through the pain, "It's just a flesh wound. Feels worse than it is."

"We need to get this cauterized before it becomes gangrenous," Elizabeth advised, and Will replied with, "Agreed."

Elizabeth looked up at her husband, and asked, "What happened over there? Where's Henry?"

Will sighed, and then said, "Scarfield left hours ago for Port Royal. He's taking Henry to be court martialed."

Elizabeth cupped her hands over her mouth, terrified at this news.

"I should never have let him join the Navy," Elizabeth said, "I should have known something like this would've happened."

"Elizabeth," Will put a hand on her shoulder, "none of this is your fault. We still have a chance to get him back."

 _"What?"_ Norrington worriedly asked, stepping forward closer to where the Turners were gathered at the end of the dock, "Why is Henry being court martialed?"

"Desertion," Will answered bitterly, not looking up at him.

Norrington scoffed, rolled his eyes, and said, "Great. Just what we need right now."

Will's temper began to flare up, and then he stood up and faced Norrington.

"And where the hell have you been all this time?" Will angrily asked him, "You said you would be back by dusk with a crew."

"It took longer than expected," Norrington spoke firmly, not at all amused by Will raising his voice at him.

"If you had been back sooner, we could've caught up with Scarfield before he went to open sea," Will stated, "Now he could be anywhere en route to Port Royal."

"Do not blame me for forces outside of my control, Mr. Turner," Norrington replied sternly, "I know what's at stake here."

"So what do you suppose we ought to do now, _Captain?"_ Will asked of him.

"Now we need to find him and the jewel before-"

"Jewel?" Will asked.

"Yes," Norrington answered, "Henry had taken the jewel from Poseidon's Trident. If we have any chance of stopping Jones, we need that jewel."

Will blinked.

"But I _have_ the jewel," Will informed him, and he pulled the glowing orange jewel from his pocket and showed it to Norrington.

Norrington closed his eyes and heaved a sigh of relief, saying, "Oh, thank God. Now that we have the jewel all we have to do now is find Barbossa and-"

"Wait, what?" Will asked, "What do you mean, 'find Barbossa?' I thought we were going to save Henry."

There was a tense pause between the two men.

"We _will_ save Henry," Norrington began, "but first-"

"No, no, no, no, no, no, there is no 'first' here," Will interrupted, "We are going after Henry, full-stop."

"Will, I understand your concern-" Norrington began again.

"No you don't!" Will stopped him once again, "If you were a father, _then_ you would understand! We are going after Henry and there is nothing that's going to change that!"

"I can't allow Barbossa to die!" Norrington shouted back.

Will stopped arguing with Norrington, seeing this was going nowhere. Instead, he turned himself around and walked back past Elizabeth and Bootstrap towards the cottage.

"Will, where are you going?" Elizabeth called after him, but he didn't answer. He was absolutely furious, but he knew there was one way to compel Norrington to reason.

He burst into the house, stormed up the stairs, thrust open his bedroom door, and opened his wardrobe. Hastily, he pulled out the Dead Man's Chest lying inside, and rummaged around again for the key. Once he had done so, he opened the chest and saw the beating heart of James Norrington inside.

Taking the chest under his arm, Will stormed out of his home over to the docks, where Elizabeth was still attending to Bootstrap while Norrington had not moved an inch.

"What are you doing?" Norrington inquired of Will, but at these words Will thrust the Chest down onto the dock and kicked the lid open, showing Norrington his own heart.

"You are going to take me to my son. Right now," Will demanded. For good measure, he pulled the pistol from his belt and pointed it right at the heart.

 _"Will!"_ Elizabeth nearly screamed.

"Are you mad!?" Norrington shouted, drawing his sword and reeling it back, "Do you even realize what you're doing, Turner!?"

"I know _full well_ what I'm doing, Norrington!" Will retorted, "And I'd be willing to risk another hundred years before the mast than watch my son dangle from the hangman's noose!"

"If we don't get to Barbossa now, then Henry will be at the mercy of _Jones!"_ Norrington furiously told him.

"What's so special about Barbossa that we need his help?" Will asked of him.

"Like I said, he has a weapon that can destroy Jones once and for all," Norrington began.

"And pray tell, what exactly makes this weapon so unique that we can't go to Barbossa _after_ rescuing Henry?" Will asked with a hint of sarcasm.

"Because if we don't, then Jones will kill Barbossa and use the Sword of Triton to unleash his wrath upon the seas," Norrington finally declared.

There was a hefty silence, but neither Will nor Norrington moved their weapons from where they had them.

"The Sword of Triton?" Will repeated, letting this new knowledge sink in.

"Yes," Norrington answered him, "a powerful broadsword forged in Atlantis by Triton himself, capable of all sorts of dark magic."

"And you tell me this now?" Will asked, eyebrow raised.

"You were so hung up on Jones that I never got a chance to properly explain," Norrington said, "Barbossa somehow acquired the blade, and now that Jones has returned he intends to claim it."

"To what end?" Will asked again.

"I suspect he will use the sword's magic to restore Triton to power," Norrington said, and Will, Elizabeth, and Bootstrap all look very surprised at this knowledge, "Now, the base sword has the power to reanimate dead matter, but to be able to revive Triton will take some... additions."

Will wondered what he had meant, but he wasn't stupid. He pulled out the Trident's jewel from his pocket and observed its eerie glow, and then looked up towards Norrington.

"The one you have now is the core to Poseidon's Trident, which has the potential to control the wind and tide. There are more jewels like this scattered throughout the Caribbean, imbuing power to other weapons of the gods. If Jones gets his hands on the sword and all the jewels, then he'll be able to resurrect Triton, and who knows what they intend to do afterwards?"

Will swallowed hard, coming to terms with the reality of this.

"And if we acquire the sword and jewels before he does?" Will asks once more.

"Then we can destroy Jones," Norrington said, "and obliterate Triton's soul from existence so he cannot ever try to come back again."

Will lowered his pistol. Norrington sheathed his sword. Elizabeth and Bootstrap heaved sighs of relief.

"Alright, James," Will relents, "We'll go to Barbossa before we retrieve Henry. But I need to know... what will happen if Jones succeeds and brings Triton back?" Will asks one last time.

Norrington looked into his eyes with the sharp focus of a hawk.

"War," he stated simply.

* * *

The Templar ship glided across the oceans in the dead of night. Below decks, two knights were holding onto the arms of Joshamee Gibbs and escorting him down to the commander's office. Along the way, Gibbs made sure to observe his surroundings, and it really did seem that these were actual knights from the Middle Ages. But how? The Templars were disbanded hundreds of years ago.

The knights opened the door to the brig, and before them sat Sir Robert at his desk, though now he had taken off his armor and was in more casual clothing.

"Welcome, Mr. Gibbs," Robert addressed him calmly, "Please, sit down."

The knights standing beside Gibbs let go of his arms, and he hesitantly walked forward and sat down in the chair in front of Robert.

"Who are you people?" Gibbs asked with a puzzled expression.

"My name is Sir Robert de Montreal, and these are my men," he told him, "We are Templars."

"I thought that the Templars were disbanded in 1312," Gibbs answered.

"We were?" Robert asked, looking rather concerned. Gibbs was rather confused by his reaction.

"How do you not know when your own order ended?" Gibbs asked.

"I must confess to you, Mr. Gibbs, we are not from this time," Robert informed him, leaving Gibbs in greater confusion still.

"This _time?"_ Gibbs parroted, stressing the knight's words.

"Forgive me, sir, I don't wish to leave you in confusion," Robert politely told him, "From where we come from, it is the year 1189. Through some level of sorcery, me and my men were somehow transported forward in time hundreds of years, and now we find ourselves in... well to tell you the truth I have no idea what year this is."

"1757," Gibbs answered, still trying to wrap his head around the idea of _time travel_ being possible.

"Good Lord," Robert responded, looking away, "That long..."

Robert then quickly regained his composure, saying, "But I digress. We have some questions that we would appreciate your assistance with."

Gibbs didn't say a word, waiting for Robert to make the first move.

"Are you at all familiar with the pirate known as Barbossa?" Robert asked.

Gibbs blinked, considering all the options he had at his disposal. What could Jones possibly want with Barbossa?

"I am," Gibbs answered, "He died some time ago."

Robert pondered his answer for a moment, and then scribbled it down on a piece of parchment he had on his desk.

"Do you know what became of his body? Where would he be located?" Robert asked, and Gibbs couldn't help but feel like he could not be trusted.

"I can't say," Gibbs answered, but felt he should elaborate on that, "What I mean is that his body was cast out into the sea. Can't reckon where exactly."

"I see," Robert replied, scribbling that answer down as well.

Suddenly, the door to the room burst open, and Gibbs and Robert quickly looked towards the door to see Jones standing in the doorway.

"Well?" Jones asked Robert, and Robert quickly stood up and clutched Gibbs' answers in hand.

"I have the report, Captain Jones," Robert said, walking over towards Jones. He placed the parchment in Jones' tentacled hand, and the creature began scanning the writing with his beady eyes.

Jones made a noise that sounded akin to a snort. Afterwards he tore the parchment in half and discarded the pages onto the floor.

"This is a load of horse piss-ah," Jones told Robert, "Then again, I expect nothing less from a pirate-ah."

Gibbs retained his cool as Jones started to approach him, "Barbossa is alive, and you know where he is-ah. You are going to tell me what I need to know, right now."

"I've told you, Barbossa is dead!" Gibbs lied, defending himself, "What more is there to say?"

In another moment, Jones' crab arm was wrapped around Gibbs' throat and he pulled him up out of his chair.

"Sir Robert," Jones addressed the knight, "Allow me to show you the finer points-ah on gathering intelligence!"

With that, Jones yanked Gibbs along out of the room and dragged him along, frightening the knights that they passed on their way out. Jones eventually brought Gibbs down to the brig, and tossed him inside one of the iron cells. Gibbs picked himself up off the ground, and then saw Pintel and Ragetti were in the cell with him, the pair of them bound and gagged.

 _"Mmmmmgh!"_ they tried calling out to Gibbs but their voices were muffled. Gibbs then looked back at the cell door to see that Jones, Robert, and two other knights had stepped in with them.

"You are going to tell me where Barbossa is right now," Jones demanded, "or your men die-ah!"

Jones drew out the Crusader sword from its scabbard and held it out towards Pintel and Ragetti, who were starting to panic greatly now.

"I don't know where he is!" Gibbs tried lying one last time, but Jones did not buy it.

"Oh well, then," Jones replied casually, and then reeled the sword back to strike at the two pirates.

"WAIT!" Gibbs called out, "I'll tell you where Barbossa is. Just... don't kill them."

Jones then chuckled, and then sheathed his sword again. Pintel and Ragetti sighed in relief.

"Then tell me, Mr. Gibbs," Jones began, getting down on one knee, "Where. Is. He?"

* * *

Barbossa was sleeping in his bed, Shansa right beside him. All had gone quiet on the plantation, and the only people awake on the small island were the men that Barbossa had placed as sentries. Despite these security measures, none of them could make out the image of the Templar ship that had arrived in the darkness.

Jones observed the plantation through his spyglass, taking note of the guards posted on the island. If the knights were swift enough they could easily overtake the pirates with their superior numbers. But then again they had never come in contact with active firearms before, so it wasn't a surefire guarantee. From this distance, Jones wasn't sure if the Spear would be able to affect their powder supplies.

"Looks to me like this should be the place," Sir Robert commented, standing next to Jones and adorned in his battle armor.

"Aye. It seems our friends down below were telling the truth-ah," Jones commented, "I had already gotten confessions out of Pintel and Ragetti, but I needed Gibbs to corroborate the story without any of their knowing."

Jones smirked at his own deceptiveness. The pirates' hypocritical sense of fraternity had led them to serve Barbossa to him on a silver platter.

"Are your men fit and ready to fight, Sir Robert?" Jones asked of him, and Robert replied, "Yes, Captain."

Jones then turned around and faced the large group of knights standing before him.

"This looks like a simple plantation, but let it be known among the lot of you that these charlatans are not simple farmers; these are _pirates,"_ Jones declared to them all, causing the knights to murmur amongst themselves for a moment.

"I tell you this so as to eliminate whatever doubts you have about fighting them," Jones declared, "This vicious bunch of brigands know nothing other than a life of sin and debauchery, and I can assure you-ah that you will be fulfilling your duties to your _God_ in the process."

Jones' words seemed to do their job, for the knights looked more respondent now.

"Your mission: kill the pirate known as Hector Barbossa, and bring me his sword-ah," Jones declared, "Should anyone get in your way-ah... kill them."

"Alright," Evrard declared, "You heard the Captain. All hands to the boats."

Robert stepped forward as to join his men, but Jones stuck his arm out in front of him as to prevent him from going.

"You and I will stay and observe-ah," Jones declared with an icy calmness.

"With all due respect, Captain Jones, but wouldn't it be best for you to go ashore and find Barbossa yourself? You seem to have a familiarity with the man," Robert commented.

"Valid points, Sir Robert," Jones replied, "but alas, I cannot step ashore. Such is the curse that I bear that prevents me from doing so."

Jones and Robert turned and looked out over the water towards the boats, which were close to reaching the shores of the island. Robert prayed under his breath for the safety of his men.

The Templars neared the shores, being sure to keep as silent as possible. For this task to be accomplished, they needed the element of surprise. Such a move would catch the pirates off balance and make defeating them much easier. Evrard had his sword drawn but proceeded slowly under the cover of darkness, hoping to avoid as much bloodshed as possible.

One of the patrolling sentries loomed near them, and one of the knights came up behind him and slit his throat. As he fell to the ground, so did his musket, and the knight looked upon the weapon with great curiosity. He picked the weapon off the ground, thinking it looked like a mixture between a crossbow and a pike.

"Come look at thi-"

 _BOOM!_

The knight accidentally pulled the trigger of the musket, causing the shot inside to go off. Immediately, the knights placed their hands to their ears, never once having heard a sound as loud and cacophonous as this.

"What was that!?" Evrard demanded.

The gunshot had awoken Barbossa and Shansa with a start, and throughout the plantation it woke the sleeping workers and alerted the other sentries.

"Hector, what was that?" Shansa asked, but Barbossa didn't respond. He knew that something was wrong and they could be in danger right now.

Barbossa's men had grabbed their weapons and rushed out towards the sugar fields where they heard the gunshot. Upon reaching the area they spotted the knights that were approaching.

"Hold, you!" one of the pirates shouted, holding up his gun towards them as he neared.

Evrard realized they had lost the element of surprise, and then raised his sword up and shouted, "ATTACK!"

With that, the knights all drew their weapons and let out a war cry as they charged at the pirates. The pirates fired a few gunshots but the knights swarmed them within seconds.

The gunshots further alerted the whole plantation to the commotion, and within moments the alarm bell sounded out to signal all of Barbossa's men that it was time to fight.

"We're under attack!" Barbossa declared, quickly thrusting himself out of bed. With haste, he fitted his wooden leg into place, and afterwards drew a pistol out from his bedside drawer.

"What do we do?" Shansa worriedly asked, and Barbossa looked over to her and said, "We need to get out of here and hold them back, whoever they are. Get yerself ready to go, I'll do the same."

Shansa then darted over to her own wardrobe and began putting on her witch's robes, while Barbossa meanwhile opened up his wardrobe and quickly pulled the large chest out from inside. He opened the chest and looked down at all his possessions. He hesitated for a moment because he thought he had finally left this life behind, but at the noise of the battle outside he realized he didn't have much choice in the matter.

Barbossa put on his pirate captain's attire, quickly fastened his buckles into place, sheathed the Sword of Triton on his belt, grabbed all the pistols inside and checked them all for powder, and finally grabbed his blunderbuss cane and hat.

As he fitted his wide-brimmed hat atop his head, he spoke to Shansa, saying, "The first chance we get, we have to bolt out of here and get to the _Eagle,_ understand?"

"Yes," Shansa said, finishing dressing into her robes.

Barbossa held his blunderbuss in hand, and he peered out through his bedroom window to see the battle raging outside. His men were engaged in fierce hand-to-hand combat with what looked like Crusader knights.

"What in the _blazes!?"_ Barbossa asked aloud. But he had no time to satisfy his curiosity. His priority was to get himself, Shansa, and his men to safety.

Though the cutlasses of the pirates were swift, it made little difference against the chainmail and armor of the knights. They brought their heavy claymores down on the pirates, and it appeared as if they were winning with minimal losses. Their biggest adversary were the guns that the pirates made use of, pistols and rifles both. Aimed just right, it could pass right through chainmail and kill the knight wearing it.

Evrard was fighting against one of the pirates, and their blades came together with sharp swiftness. He had to leap back to avoid the pirate's blade from cutting at him, but was able to counterattack by thrusting his claymore forward and forcing the pirate to block. Evrard saw an opportunity and managed to leave the pirate's center wide open, which he then capitalized on by cutting across his chest and killing the man before him.

Barbossa had escorted Shansa to the front entrance, and held their place before proceeding.

"When I open that door, I'll fire and then you make haste to the _Eagle,"_ Barbossa instructed her, and Shansa nodded.

"Three... two… one... NOW!" Barbossa kicked open the door to the outside and saw two knights engaged in heavy combat with two of his men. Raising his blunderbuss, Barbossa took careful aim at the knights and then pulled the trigger, sending shot right into the knights and killing the both of them instantly. The pirates nodded at him in gratitude and went off to fight more of the knights.

"Go, Shansa! I'll catch up!" Barbossa told Shansa, discarding his blunderbuss on the ground and pulling out two pistols from his person.

"But Hector-" Shansa started to say, but Barbossa said, "Just go! Now!"

Shansa then took off running down towards the docks, careful to avoid the attention of the knights as she made her way around the battle. Once she had left, Barbossa raised his pistols and fired off both shots, killing two more knights. Some of the knights saw this and directed their attention towards Barbossa, who responded by discarding his empty pistols and drawing out two more.

"COME AND PUT UP A FIGHT, YA BUNCH A LILY-LIVERED MONGRELS! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Barbossa laughed as three knights started to charge at him. He fired at and killed two of the knights, and after discarding those empty pistols he drew his sword to engage the third. They had a short but furious duel, which ended with Barbossa as victorious and standing over the knight's dead body.

He drew out another pistol and continued to charge his way through the battlefield, cutting down anyone who got in his way. Barbossa was helping to turn the tide, but he knew that it wouldn't be safe to engage the knights for much longer. After cutting through one knight and shooting another through, Barbossa soon found himself facing up against Evrard. The knight charged forward with his claymore in an attempt to behead Barbossa, but the pirate blocked it at the last second. Evrard reeled back and thrust towards Barbossa's legs, but that advance was blocked as well. More strikes, high, low, and otherwise, were dealt out between the two, and they both realized their opponents had more skill than they initially thought.

Evrard was eventually able to knock Barbossa off balance, seeing that the stance of the pirate's right leg looked rather awkward. Their blades clashed together and he kicked against his boot, causing Barbossa to fall backward onto the ground and drop his sword. Barbossa then started to crawl backwards away from Evrard, who had raised his sword above his head and prepared to swing down with all his fury.

With a sudden speed, Barbossa reached down towards his belt and grabbed his skull-handled pistol, the last one on his person. Directing it up at Evrard, he fired the weapon, and the bullet struck against his chest. The knight fell onto the ground with a thud and dropped his sword in the process.

Wasting no time, Barbossa sheathed his pistol and picked up his sword. He looked around him and saw that the knights were starting to beat back the pirates, and he realized there was no winning this fight.

"Retreat to the _Eagle,_ gents!" Barbossa ordered, and the pirates disengaged the knights and started to make haste to the docked schooner. The knights gave chase, but the pirates boarded the vessel before they could reach them. Quickly, Barbossa raised the Sword of Triton and commanded that the sails be loosened so they could sail away from the island as fast as possible.

Barbossa saw the knights angrily shouting in defeat, and behind them he watched as his plantation became further and further away from him. But now was no time to feel sorry for himself.

Who _were_ these men? Why were they dressed like knights? Why were they here?

Barbossa noticed something out of the corner of his eye, and he saw the silhouette of the Templar ship in the distance. Acquiring a spyglass, Barbossa saw that the ship was far too large and primitive to give chase, so at least now they could make good their escape.

But as Barbossa continued to look out at the ship for answers, his heart stopped beating when he caught sight of someone he knew to be long dead. A tentacled monster with a vengeful scowl on his face, standing right aboard the Templar ship.

Barbossa lowered his spyglass and looked to be in abject terror. This couldn't be possible. It couldn't be. He remembers fighting against him twenty years ago. He remembers how he died.

"Hector!" Shansa's voice called out, and Barbossa turned his head around to see that Shansa had made it to the ship alright. He stepped forward and gave her a protective embrace.

"I know who attacked us, Shansa," Barbossa began, pulling his head back to look into her eyes.

"It was Davy Jones."

* * *

Back over on the island, the knights started to collect their dead and attend to their wounded. Evrard had survived Barbossa's gunshot, the ball only striking against the metal of his breastplate and not injuring him to any great degree. He said a prayer as a sign of thanks, and looked off into the distance to see that the _Eagle_ was now too far away to give chase.

"The Captain is not going to be pleased about this," one of the knights said as he pulled Evrard to his feet.

"No, he is not," Evrard replied.

They made their way back over to the ship, where Jones had a look of seething anger that he was trying so hard to repress.

"So..." Jones began, "Barbossa got away."

"Unfortunately so, yes," Robert answered for him.

Jones let out a heavy sigh to express his disappointment. He then stormed over to the commander's cabin, grabbed the Spear, and made his way back out to the top deck.

"'Tis no matter," Jones replied, his grip on the Spear firm as the green jewel within glowed brighter, "for now he and the rest of this damned sea will feel the wrath of Ares for the first time in millennia!"

Jones raised his spear up, and a loud thundercrack sounded out. The knights looked up above them to see the clouds were beginning to stir in an unusual fashion, and then flashes of lighting were visible within them. Jones brought the end of the spear down onto the deck of the Templar ship, and another burst of thunder sounded out.

Rain started to pour from the clouds up above them, but Jones did not flinch. His lip twitched in anticipation, awaiting the moment that the full power of the Spear of Ares could be unleashed and he would bring Hell to the Seven Seas.

* * *

 **A/N: Heyo! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Like I said before, my muse has returned so now updates will be more frequent than before. This one contains a lot of tension and action, so I hope I delivered to your satisfaction in terms of content. As always, if you have any questions or comments, please be sure to review or PM me and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Next time will explore the aftermath of Jones' decision, and how it will affect our heroes at sea. Until then, thanks for reading and stay classy!**

 **\- Spent**

 **P.S., "Robert" is pronounced as "Row-Bear," for the Templars are actually Frenchmen who, for the sake of the story, conveniently speak English.**


	10. The Wrath of Ares

Norrington and Will were organizing provisions for the _Dutchman_ and her crew. Though they had plenty of arms and munitions already, and the sails were in good condition, they still needed basic necessities for the crew such as food and water.

"Come on, people. Let's move it along now," Norrington ordered, "We haven't got all night."

Norrington looked over to his first mate and asked, "Mr. Chamberlain, is the powder secured?"

"Yes, Captain," Chamberlain answered him, "Johnson and Lockheed took care of that, and Jubair is taking lead on the rest of the cargo."

"Good," Will spoke up, sounding somewhat irritated, "The sooner we leave the better."

Norrington looked over to Will, and then said, "Excuse me, but I believe _I_ am the one in command here, Mr. Turner."

Will raised a finger and opened his mouth as if to protest, but words failed him when he tried to speak. Lowering his hand, he said, "True enough. Sorry, force of habit."

Norrington silently motioned his hand at him, signaling that no apology was necessary.

"So," Will began, "the _HMS Sword_ should be somewhere between here and Port Royal. But how do you suppose we'll track it?"

"Hmm," Norrington rubbed his chin, "I suppose from this point we could determine all possible directions and find the route most likely to-"

Norrington's own words were drowned out by the sound of the thunderclap that rang through the night. Though the men aboard the _Dutchman_ were well accustomed to the sounds of storms, this particular one sounded like a thousand cannons being fired at once. They reacted by placing their hands to their ears and crouching down, fearful that they would be struck by a bolt of lightning.

Will and Norrington directed their attention to the stern where they observed the brewing storm beyond. The clouds were beginning to swirl, and lightning was forming in the center as more cracks of thunder sounded out.

"Oh no," Norrington sounded horrified.

"That storm doesn't look too friendly," Will observed, but Norrington shook his head.

"No... no, that's no ordinary storm," Norrington began, and then turned to face Will again, "It means Jones has already found the Spear of Ares."

"What? What's that?" Will asked.

"It's one of the artifacts we needed to find, but we're too late now. Jones can now control the storms, and it looks like he's unleashed it's power," Norrington told him, his voice dripping with panic.

He directed his focus towards the _Dutchman's_ crew and bellowed, "FOUL WEATHER TO STERN! BATTEN DOWN THE HATCHES AND STEP-TO!"

There was a sudden panic among the crew, who were now hurrying along to secure whatever they could before heading below decks.

Norrington looked back over at Will and grabbed his arm, saying, "Will, get back to your family and secure them now! Stay inside until the storm passes!"

Will hesitated for a moment but only for a moment. At the moment he turned away and started back quickly along the pier, he felt the wind pick up, and his quickened pace morphed into a run. He had to make it back to the cottage and make sure that Elizabeth and his father were alright.

Will burst through the door and quickly locked it behind him. He then started to close the shutters on all the windows, making sure to lock them in place.

Elizabeth, who had been attending to Bootstrap upstairs in her bedroom, heard the commotion from downstairs and got up to investigate.

"I'll be back," Elizabeth told Bootstrap, and with that she went downstairs to see Will closing the shutters.

"What's going on?" Elizabeth asked, panicked.

"Storm's brewing up out there," Will said as he closed the last shutter, "We need to get my father into the basement before it comes."

Will and Elizabeth made their way up to their bedroom, and Elizabeth said, "I managed to stop the bleeding and sealed it, but his leg will take some time to heal."

"It's good enough for now," Will responded, and they entered into the bedroom to see Bootstrap laying against it with his leg propped up.

"We need to go to the basement before that storm hits us," Will told him, and with that both he and Elizabeth took one of his arms and guided him downstairs. Once they were at the basement and Bootstrap was secure, Will closed the door tightly while Elizabeth lit the lamps within.

"We'll only be down here until the storm passes," Will told them, leaning his back against one of the walls.

"How long do you reckon that'll be?" Bootstrap asked his son.

"I don't know. Soon enough, hopefully," Will said, facing away. It was only now that they were secure that his mind suddenly remembered that Henry was still bound for Port Royal in the middle of the ocean.

He silently prayed that the storm wouldn't come anywhere near him.

* * *

Henry sat in silence inside the _Sword's_ brig. His back against the wall and his knees propped up, he held his bloodied hands together and stared at them contemplatively.

How on _Earth_ could he have killed those men in the jail? There were five of them and one of him, and they were of much greater prowess and determination to kill than he was. And what's more, he couldn't for the life of him remember how he would've done it. The mere fact that he couldn't recollect his own violent deeds scared him more than the impending court martial he knew he would receive once they reached Port Royal.

Maybe Scarfield was right and he was going mad. All Henry knew for sure is that he was locked up like a caged animal. Almost like-

Henry's thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of thunder cracking, and his head lifted upward as if he hoped to get a glimpse of the night sky. He didn't know why he should be concerned. It was just a storm they'd most likely pass by.

But just as he was thinking that, he felt the ship listing rather heavily. By now he was accustomed to the motion but it was a little unnerving.

Above deck, there was confusion among the British sailors aboard. There had been no signs of a storm all night, and one suddenly sprung up on them. When they felt the ship begin to list more heavily, they became a little more nervous.

Scarfield was hunched over at his desk checking over his latest report when he felt the jerking motions of the ship. He looked up from his papers and started to scan his quarters, wondering where this sudden interference came from. The ship listed again, this time to starboard, and the candles on Scarfield's desk tipped over onto the floor.

"Damn!" Scarfield cursed, quickly getting up from his chair and stomping out the fire before it could spread. His irritation now morphing into concern, he grabbed his hat and made his way out onto the deck, careful to keep his balance as the ship rolled.

"Quartermaster!" he called out, and the man of the title directed his focus at Scarfield while trying to keep his footing.

"Commodore, sir!" the quartermaster called out as he approached Scarfield, "This storm, it... it came out of nowhere!"

"The storm didn't come out of _nowhere,"_ Scarfield began, "you imbeciles neglected your duties!"

"Sir, I can assure you-" the quartermaster began, but Scarfield raised a hand and retorted, "I have no time nor patience for excuses!"

He craned his neck and called out, "Helmsman! Keep her steady and true! The rest of you, douse canvas and trim us off the wind!"

The sailors were moving as fast as they could, securing the lines and the sails as the storm started brewing up more. Despite hauling in most of the sails except the necessary ones, the winds continued to blow hard against the _Sword,_ rolling the ship more than the waves already had. In the commotion, Scarfield's hat went flying right off his head, and he looked on as it was blown on right into the ocean.

Below deck, Henry heard the panicked shouts of the sailors aboard, and suddenly he had a very bad memory of himself in a similar position over a year ago.

 _Get yourself together, Turner. Focus on the here and now._

Henry stood himself up, careful to keep his balance as the waves continued to rock the ship. He looked out into the small room his cell was inside, and saw what looked like the keys to the cell door hanging off of a nail right next to the door that led to the rest of the ship.

He suddenly got an idea. If this ship rolled just right, the keys would come right off the nail, and he could use them to escape his cell. Afterwards amongst all the chaos he could get himself into a lifeboat and escape from the British. No way would they bother chasing him through a storm like this.

The ship continued to list, and the thunder became even louder. Henry could see flashes of lightning from beneath the floorboards, and he heard it pouring buckets outside. Eventually, the ship had rolled so hard that the keys fell right onto the floor, just as Henry had wanted them too.

"YES!" he shouted excitedly, getting down closer to the floor and outstretching his arm through the bars of his cell. The ship leaned back and the keys started to slide towards him.

A large wave crashed against the stern, tilting the _Sword_ forward and causing the keys to slide back towards the door.

"No, no, no, no, no, no!" Henry whined as the keys were now out of reach.

The ship leaned back again, and the keys came back towards him.

"Alright, come here you!" Henry stretched his fingers as far as the bars would let him. But the ship leaned forward again and, once again, the keys slid away from him just as he closed his hand.

"OH COME ON!" Henry moaned as the keys drifted away. As soon as the ship drifted back again, Henry kept his focus on grabbing the keys at the precise moment.

The keys drifted towards him again, and this time Henry was able to wrap his hands around the tiny piece of metal before it could escape his grasp again.

"Finally!" Henry said in victory, standing himself up and proceeding to work on unlocking his cell door.

* * *

The crew of the _Black Pearl_ were making haste to their stations as the storm blew in and brought the rain and wind with it. Carina exited her cabin and took a look among the panicked mess her crew had become.

"What's happening!?" Carina called out, catching the attention of Murtogg and Mullroy, "Where did this storm come from!?"

"We aren't sure, ma'am!" Murtogg answered first, holding tightly onto his hat, "One minute the skies were clear and the next-"

"We're surrounded by rain and lightning and high waves!" Mullroy continued on for him.

Carina looked away from them out into the night, and saw a bolt of lightning flash across the sky, close to their ship. Recognizing that remaining still or going slow in these conditions could put the entire crew in danger, she came up with a bold plan.

"Let out every sail we got!" Carina ordered the crew, "Tops! Gallants! Royals! Studs! I want everything! Step lively, boys!"

Carina paced towards the helm, and Murtogg and Mullroy started dogging after her.

"In this weather, we can't hope to hold with sails out!" Murtogg started.

"We should douse canvas, ma'am!" Mullroy advised.

"The _Pearl_ can hold, she always does!" Carina told them, marching up the stairs to the helm, "To your stations, gentlemen!"

With a rather poorly-coordinated salute, the two former Royal Marines took off and began helping the other pirates loosen the sails as per Carina's orders. Carina made it to the helm and took over from Cotton, who himself then took off to help Marty release the forsails.

 _Alright, Hector, let's see if your training went to good use._

Her grip firm on the _Pearl's_ wheel, Carina observed her immediate surroundings and saw that the waves were primarily crashing against the port side, causing the ship to roll heavily. Using a considerable amount of her energy, she turned the wheel hard to starboard, knowing they'd have a better chance with the waves at their stern than at either port or starboard, and especially instead of the bow.

The ship's drenched, black sails were loosened fully, and both the wind and the waves were at their back. Carina let go of the _Pearl's_ wheel and let the rudder straighten itself out, whereupon she grabbed onto the wheel again and held it steady. At the precise moment she did, a bolt of lightning shot down through the sky and impacted against the water, causing a great, electric wave to ripple out. It rocked against the _Pearl_ and caused it to drift off course slightly. Carina watched the whole thing, terrified that it had come so close to impacting against the ship, and wondering why it hadn't struck the crow's nest first.

Carina couldn't concern herself with that now, for she had to keep the ship away from the dangers of the wind and tide if she and the crew were to survive this.

Wiping rain off of her brow, she was focused and determined on getting out of this alive. She had to, so that she could live to stop Jones herself.

"Hold her steady!" Carina ordered, readjusting the wheel, "We're not out of this yet!"

* * *

Barbossa and his crew were doing their best to keep the _Eagle_ from toppling over. Given that it was only a schooner it could easily be tipped over with enough power from the waves.

"Put yer back into it, ya pack of ingrates! Keep us from drowning!" Barbossa bellowed.

Two men were manning the wheel and being sure to balance the rudder according to the direction of the waves. One wrong move and the whole ship could topple right over.

Shansa, though not a sailor herself, was doing her bit and helping to secure the mizzen-mast. Despite Barbossa's objections, they both knew that every hand aboard had to do their bit to keep the ship afloat.

"This is Jones' doing, I just know it!" Barbossa called over to her, "Any idea how he was able to do this!?"

"Ancient magic. Dark, powerful..." Shansa began, "The world hasn't known anything like this for thousands of years."

* * *

"Come on, come on, come on, come on... YES!" Henry cheered once he successfully was able to unlock the door to his cell. The moment he did, however, another wave crashed against the stern of the _Sword_ and he fell right against the unlocked door, causing it to fly open and Henry to come crashing onto the floor.

"Ugh," Henry began, picking himself up, "that could've gone _significantly_ better."

As he stood himself up, Henry looked towards the warden's desk, and saw that his knife was resting atop of it. He quickly snatched the blade and placed it inside his boot. As he was about to leave the brig, he caught sight of an officer's jacket laying atop of the chair, dark blue in color with white lining. It was then Henry got the idea of wearing so he could make it past the rest of the sailors undetected while he escaped the ship.

He put the jacket on, and then proceeded to make his way out the door. By now the rain was coming down fiercely, and the ship was rocking harder than it ever had been. A tremendous wave crashed against the port side of the ship, sending a great deal of water onto the deck and knocking some of the sailors over. Henry saw that he had no time to waste and had to hurry to the nearest lifeboat.

He saw one suspended near the bow, and he clambered his way over, gripping onto the port rail to steady himself. Another wave crashed into the ship, drenching Henry with seawater. Spitting it out of his mouth and pulling loose hair out of his eyes, he continued onward.

Just before Henry could reach the lifeboat, the pulleys keeping the ropes holding the boat up became loose. By the time Henry had gotten there, the pulleys became weak and the ropes descended, taking the boat with them.

Henry looked on in horror as the boat fell into the ocean water and crashed against the bow of the ship. There went his escape plan.

He looked behind him, knowing that there had to be another lifeboat at the _Sword's_ stern. Quickly, he made his way over to the other end of the ship, nearly slipping in the process. He had to grab onto the main mast to keep himself from falling over.

He made his way up past the helm, and the lifeboat was within sight at the stern. Delighted, Henry was about to climb aboard when he felt a pair of hands grab his shoulders very roughly.

"Oh no you don't, you coward!" Scarfield's voice called out, holding Henry back. Henry wasted no time in elbowing Scarfield in the chest, and the Commodore's grip loosened from the boy's shoulders. He quickly turned himself around to face Scarfield, and the latter drew out his sword with murderous intent. Eyes widening, Henry leapt back in fear as Scarfield's blade was mere inches away from his chest.

"Fight me! Stand and fight me!" Scarfield bellowed, reeling his sword back. Henry ducked to avoid being decapitated, but at that precise moment the blade had cut through the rope holding the lifeboat in place, causing it to fall into the sea behind them. Henry looked on in panic realizing that all possible ways off of this ship were gone, and now he had to contend with Scarfield personally.

Redirecting his focus at the naval officer, Henry's adrenaline kicked in as he searched for a way to defeat this man without the use of a sword. Scarfield reeled back his weapon again, and just as he was about to strike at the boy, Henry was able to grasp onto his right wrist at the precise moment, halting his attack.

Scarfield looked furious, but Henry had no time to care. Using his free hand, he punched Scarfield directly in the face, and watched as he dropped his sword and placed a hand to his nose in pain. Capitalizing on his opportunity, Henry took off running away from Scarfield back over towards the bow. However, just as he made his way halfway across the ship, he heard a tremendous crack of thunder sound out, and he had to cover his ears to avoid going deaf. Henry turned around and looked up at the top of the main mast, realizing that lightning had just struck against it and broken the wood. His eyes widened in fear for the mast was now about to fall.

Henry looked back towards the stern of the ship and saw Scarfield rushing his way towards him, but he stopped when he saw the main mast starting to tip over. Both Henry and Scarfield backed away before the mast could hit them, and the wooden beam crashed against both the deck and the unfortunate sailors that happened to be in the way.

Two more consecutive lightning strikes hit both the foremast and the mizzenmast, causing them to break off as well. At that moment, Henry realized there was no salvaging of the situation. He had to swim for it.

The sailors all around him began to panic, and Henry started running towards the bow. Another tremendous wave crashed against the starboard side, rolling the ship the hardest it ever had.

"ABANDON SHIP! ABANDON SHIP!" someone cried out, and soon enough men were scurrying their way towards the rails of the ship and were prepared to jump into the water.

Henry leapt off the port bow at just the right moment, for when he did the ship had finally taken its absolute limit and rolled over. Henry dived into the freezing ocean water and quickly brought himself back up for air, whereupon he caught sight of the _HMS Sword_ sinking to the bottom of the ocean, taking her crew with her.

"Jesus Christ," Henry looked out towards the remains of the ship. God help those poor souls who didn't make it out in time. He thanked everything and everyone he could that he had made it off when he did.

Scanning his immediate vicinity, Henry saw a large piece of driftwood from the ship's hull floating in the water. Hopefully it would be enough to support his weight, at least until the storm broke.

Henry swam over to the driftwood and climbed aboard. The storm was still raging around him, and, though he was deathly terrified, he dared not let go of the wood he was on. Even as the rain poured hard, the waves crashed into him, and the lightning threatened his very life, he didn't let go.

 _"GAAAAAAHHHHH!"_ Henry's voice screamed through the night in terror, shutting his eyes tightly. But he couldn't afford to let fear consume him now. Survival. Survival was what mattered. So he had to let his fear turn to something else. Anger. Anger would do just fine.

 _"You are going to survive, do you hear me!?"_ Henry spoke aloud to himself, _"Don't let go!"_

The storm continued raging through the night.

 _"I can't afford to let you die! Not tonight!"_ Henry spoke again, but this time it sounded like he was speaking to someone else rather than himself. Only, no one else was there, just him.

 _"We've so much to do yet!"_ Henry spoke aloud, and for the briefest of moments that his eyes were open, that same eerie, amber glint shone in his brown eyes.

 _"We're going to survive, hombre."_

* * *

 **A/N: Hey guys! Super sorry about the delay. Busy with life and all that jazz. Anyway, I hope this was worth the wait and that you all enjoyed. Personally I enjoy writing dialogue scenes better than action scenes, but I hoped that what I had to contributed suffices for the time being.**

 **So yeah, the first full display of the Spear's power has been brought to light, and with it comes the full threat and danger that Davy Jones and the gods pose to our heroes. Next time we'll see how they recover from this sea-wide catastrophe as they plan their next moves.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and please be sure to review or PM me if you have any questions or comments. I can't give a true ETA on the next chapter but I'm hoping it'll be soon. Thank you all and stay classy!**

 **\- Spent**


	11. An Unholy Trinity

The storm continued to rage on the high seas, but the Templar ship was protected from the Spear's destructive powers. The knights watched on in a mixture of intrigue and horror as Jones was able to command the lightning in the sky and cause the sea to roil and turn.

Jones himself stood at the ship's port bow, continuing to grasp the Spear firmly in his tentacled hand. With any luck, this storm would sink Barbossa's ship and anyone else that would dare oppose him.

After a while of standing out in the rain, Jones decided that enough was enough. Using the Spear, the glowing green jewel embedded within started to dim down, and with it the harsh winds and foul clouds dispersed. The storm wouldn't fully dissipate until the morning, but Jones did not concern himself much with that. He did what was required of him.

He stormed off from the bow and the knights fearfully stepped aside so as not to impede him.

"If I may, Captain Jones," Sir Robert came up alongside him, "what do you suggest we do now?"

"Ye stay put and await further orders-ah," Jones bitterly spoke to him.

"That's not what I-" Robert began, but almost immediately Jones stopped walking and pivoted himself to face Robert, leering at him.

"It is _not_ your place to decide what is or isn't!" Jones barked, "I am in command-ah of this ship, or have ye already forgotten?"

Jones tilted his head, and Robert gulped.

"Ye should be so fortunate that you all are still alive-ah," Jones said, "It is only through my command-ah that you haven't been subject to the punishment of heathen gods-ah."

"To what end?" Robert began to question, starting to lose his patience with Jones' controlling nature over him and his men, "What do we hope to gain by helping you, hmm? Our return home? Our freedom?"

The knights aboard the top deck looked in surprise over towards Robert, watching on with high anxiety as their commander dared to challenge the Devil of the Seas.

"Oh please, spare me any such nonsense talk of 'freedom,'" Jones scoffed while waving his crab's arm, "It's a fool's belief made by pathetic little men who thought they had any control over their destinies."

"With respect, _sir_ ," Robert losing his patience more and more with the tentacled monster, "We all have control over our destinies. We can choose either to do good works, or perish alongside the unrighteous."

"Don't let your Papist teachings obfuscate the reality of things, Sir Robert," Jones said, "There's no such difference between righteous and unrighteous in this world-ah. _Cruelty_ is the only equalizer."

"That's where you're mistaken, Jones," Robert told him, "Justice, _pure_ _justice,_ is what makes us equal in the eyes of the Lord. And I suspect that that is what you are truly after."

Jones' brow twitched.

"Explain yourself, man," he demanded.

"The pirate called Barbossa," Robert began, "What quarrel is it that you have with him that warrants his death?"

Jones didn't answer immediately. He merely scoffed once more.

"It is a job that needs doing-ah, now enough on that matter." Jones relented, but from the aggressiveness in his tone it was clear he wouldn't continue.

"Very well then," Robert conceded, "Who is William Turner then?"

Again, Jones didn't immediately respond. But this time a lengthy pause occupied the air around them. Jones couldn't bring himself to words, and something inside Robert's mind clicked at that moment.

"Ah, I see now," Robert took a single step closer, holding his arms behind his back, " _He's_ the one you desire justice against, isn't he?"

Jones turned away from Robert and walked to starboard, stopping halfway across the deck. The other knights looked to be engaged with the discussion and decided to go along with whatever their commander had in mind.

"Not justice, _vengeance,"_ Jones corrected him, craning his neck, "that meddling whelp took everything from me, him and his wretched kin."

"And once you find this Turner, what do you intend to do with him?" Robert asked again.

Jones' blood began to boil at the mere thought of Turner. Every fiber of his being yearned to watch him suffer the way he had. Twenty years aboard the _Dutchman_ wasn't enough punishment for him. When Jones caught him, he would send him down to the Locker for the rest of eternity.

But he couldn't do that. At least, not yet.

"To... make him answer for his crimes," was all Jones was able to say. He couldn't allow himself to become preoccupied with his own vendetta. At least not yet.

"You want justice, then," Robert said, approaching Jones slowly, "It's not enough to kill a man arbitrarily or out of hatred, but knowing that what he has done is an absolute wrong. Can you say for certain that, beyond yourself, that he has caused harm?"

"... Yes," Jones answered. After thinking about it for a moment, he supposed that was true. His death at Will's hands prevented him from being with the one he truly loved.

 _Calypso..._

"Then, Captain Jones, I have a proposition for you," Robert began, and Jones turned around to face the elder knight.

"What be your terms-ah, Sir Robert?" Jones asked.

"My men and I will, quite willingly, aid you on your quest for justice against Turner and those that would aid him," Robert proposed, "On behalf of us all, I apologize for our failure this night, but I swear before my Lord that we will not fail again. We will do whatever we can to help you achieve the justice owed to you."

Jones was frankly surprised at this sudden shift of attitude. He looked from Robert to the Templars around him and saw that they all looked less fearful and more willing to follow than they had before. Jones considered himself fortunate he didn't kill Robert when he first glanced upon him.

"And in exchange-ah?" Jones asked, knowing there would be some sort of catch to this deal.

"Once your business has concluded with Turner, Barbossa, and whoever else your fury lies with, I want a guarantee of our safety. We just want to go back home," Robert stated his terms.

Jones considered the proposal in his mind for a moment. He decided that it was best if the knights were more pliable to his command in any event.

"We have an accord," Jones said, placing the Spear of Ares in his crab hand and holding out his tentacled one to Robert. The knight looked down quizzically towards his slimy grip, and then looked back up at Jones with a mixture of disgust and confusion.

"Oh, don't be such a pansy, I don't bite-ah," Jones rolled his eyes. Reluctantly, Robert extended his hand out and shook Jones'. Afterwards Robert started to wipe the slime onto his tunic.

"This storm will pass by the morrow-ah," Jones told him, "For now, I wish to be alone and undisturbed-ah. Do I make myself clear, Sir Robert?"

"Perfectly, Captain," Robert answered.

With that, Jones took off past him towards the commander's office, leaving Robert to stand idly by as Jones entered his quarters and close the doors behind him. The moment he had, he heaved a sigh of relief, and walked over to the starboard rail of the ship.

Evrard, who had been watching the whole conversation from the sidelines, quickly made his way over to his commander.

"You would have us _willingly_ submit to that creature?" Evrard accused him in a hushed tone, pointing in the direction of Robert's office.

"Keep your voice down, boy," Robert responded, his own voice of low pitch but stern clarity.

Evrard did not respond, but continued to make his case.

"How can you trust that Jones will keep his word?" Evrard argued, "And even if he does, you would be willing to do whatever he bids you, no matter how nefarious it is?"

"I cannot anticipate anything," Robert began, "except that we have bought ourselves more time."

Evrard and Robert both paused for a moment.

"No, I don't have any assurance that Jones will send us back to our own time once this pirate business has concluded," Robert continued, "but for now, we're alive, and that's what matters."

"For how much longer?" Evrard demanded to know, "We've lost too many men already on some fool's errand. I nearly died myself tonight, from some sort of club that made fire come out of it."

Evrard pointed a finger to his breastplate where there was a small, visible dent where Barbossa had shot him.

"All of this could've been avoided had you heeded the warning outside the cave and not taken that Spear!" Evrard's voice now became accusatory.

Robert glared at him, saying, "I am doing everything I can to keep us all alive. Whatever this madness is, we will find our way back home. But for now, I need you to do as you're told and follow Jones' command. We won't be under his... thumb, I suppose... much longer, God willing."

Evrard merely scoffed, and then turned and walked away from the starboard rail while running a hand down his face. Somehow, he knew deep down that none of them were getting out of this alive.

* * *

Jones locked the cabin door behind him, and went to work dousing the lamps within the room. Once he had blown out the last of the flames, he cleared a space for himself in the middle of the room and slowly sat himself down upon the ground. He crossed his legs, and held the Spear of Ares in his right hand. He closed his eyes and started to concentrate, and then the green jewel inside the Spear began to glow once more.

The natural light of the evening disappeared from around Jones, leaving him in complete blackness. His brow furrowed but his eyes remained shut, concentrating hard on focusing the Spear's powers, all the while the jewel glowed brighter and the humming amplified.

"I was wondering when you were going to contact me. I must say, you certainly took your time."

Natural light had returned. Jones was visibly annoyed at the voice's presence, and his beady blue eyes snapped open to look ahead of him.

"Would ye prefer someone else to do the job-ah if somehow I do not satisfy ye?" Jones spoke gruffly to the figure standing before him.

From a distance he appeared to be a man, but as one observed more closely one could tell that he was not a man at all. At least, not in entirety. He had the appearance of an average human male nearing middle age, with touches of grey dispersed throughout his short, black hair. He had no ostentatious physical features except that his nose was somewhat pointed and his outfit consisted of a cerulean blue tunic that extended down his arms and legs.

But the most unusual thing about this man is that he did not appear to be quite whole, in the sense that he looked transparent and light could pass through him. And yet, he was not a ghost either.

"I could, true... but where's the fun in that?" the figure said with a condescending smile.

Frustrated, Jones stood himself up rather quickly, disregarding the Spear as it fell onto the floor.

" _Do. Not. Test. Me-ah,"_ Jones threatened, but the figure remained unfazed.

"Oh come now, stop acting like a child here," the figure continued, "Even with that Spear you can't even hold a _candle_ to what I can do."

"Then for what do you need me-ah, _Triton?"_ Jones bitterly demanded of the god before him.

"Did you forget our deal already? My, oh my, perhaps I really should consider finding a replacement," Triton smugly replied, placing his hands behind his back as he casually strolled away from Jones over towards the aft windows.

Triton gazed up at it towards the night sky, observing the constellations through the clouds, and he took a deep breath.

"It's a beautiful sight, is it not?" Triton remarked, "Ahh, Asteria always had a good sense for decorum. A pity that most mortals are unable to appreciate the sheer magnitude of the heavens. It's not their fault, they cannot hope to comprehend such things. A flaw that Zeus overlooked, and yet... he chose not to change a thing."

Jones was losing his patience with the god, but the latter did not seem to care.

"Not the first mistake he made, mind you," Triton continued, "As you very well know."

"I haven't the time nor the luxury to play games with you-ah!" Jones stomped closer to Triton, "The longer we dawdle, the further away that Barbossa and Turner slip through my grasp!"

"You serve at my pleasure, Davy Jones, and it would do you well to remember who gave you a second chance. I can just as easily take it away if I so desire," Triton responded, much to Jones' ire."

"I served at the beck and call of others before, no longer-ah!" Jones argued, "Let me fulfill my end of the bargain so that you may fulfill yours-ah!"

"Ah, but that's just it," Triton motioned him for silence, "You've become sloppy these past few days. Barbossa slipped right through your fingers and you chose to spare the _Black Pearl_ simply because you were 'in a good mood.' With handiwork like this, it's a wonder you managed to uphold the duties of the _Dutchman_ for as long as you did. Now why, I wonder, may this be?"

Jones kept silent.

"No matter what that fool knight may say, you've let vengeance cloud your judgement. William Turner will get what is coming to him soon enough for abandoning his duties, and you will be the executioner. But do not forget your primary obligation to me, nor the reward that it brings," Triton explained.

"I am doing the best I can-ah," Jones defended himself, "It doesn't help me that I've been given this oversized raft instead of a proper ship-ah if not the _Dutchman._ "

"That was not my call to make," Triton replied with a sigh, "Pallas controls the _Dutchman,_ not I."

Jones' temper flared up again.

"Her name... is... _Calypso,"_ Jones said through gritted teeth.

Triton pivoted himself to face the tentacled beast.

"In my presence, you will refer to my daughter with the name I gave her," Triton sternly replied, his cool demeanor slipping away in that moment.

Jones maintained silence once more, and Triton paced away from him again.

"As I was saying before, Zeus was no stranger to mistakes. But perhaps even more egregious was his inability to forgive that of others," Triton continued, stopping his walk when he saw the Spear on the floor of the cabin. He stuck his transparent hand out over top of the Spear and it started to levitate, eventually finding its way into Triton's grip even though he appeared to have no physical form to do so with.

"He never forgave me for my affair with Pleione, but I was determined to regain my uncle's approval. I took the responsibility of raising Pallas myself as any decent being would. When Athena came along, I raised her as if she were my own even when Zeus would not. I trained them both in the art of war, as was my duty. And then one day, they decided to hold a friendly competition to see who was the better fighter. It was only a game, Pallas and Athena were inseparable. So I did not protest."

Triton paused.

"But maybe I should have. Maybe if I stepped in sooner, then Zeus wouldn't have. Maybe... Pallas, as I knew her, would still be alive."

Triton exhaled deeply and walked back over to the window by Jones' side.

"Zeus couldn't bare the shame of Athena losing, so he distracted Pallas, and she was killed by accident," Triton stated, "In my grief, I knew deep down that Zeus had never forgiven me, and for what he had done I could not forgive him either. His death brought me great satisfaction.

"Afterwards, I worked tirelessly to find a way to bring Pallas back. Everywhere I turned was a dead end, until I discovered Poseidon's secret forge within Atlantis. I used it to build the mightiest creation the world has ever known, capable of holding the very powers of life, death, and nature itself within it. To my joy, I was able to bring Pallas back from the dead, but she was never the same after that. The goddess that captured your heart, the one you had the Brethren Court bound into the Nine Pieces of Eight, the one you call Calypso, is what she became."

"I know this," Jones responded, still frustrated and quite confused at the same time, "Why tell me what I already know?"

"There's more that you should know," Triton continued on, "After Zeus' death, my own father, Poseidon, decided I deserved to be punished for what happened to his brother, and so he drained nearly all of his power just to trap my soul inside his Trident. Before he died centuries later, he parted his knowledge to a mere mortal and tasked him with guarding the secret of his tomb and my imprisonment."

Jones pondered what he was saying, and in a moment of realization he said, "Galileo."

"But unbeknownst to either of them, I had cursed the Trident, this Spear, and Athena's Shield with pieces of my blade's power. The blade itself was lost for centuries before that rogue Teach claimed it for his own selfish ends, and Barbossa now after him," Triton continued.

"What is it that you want me to do with this?" Jones asked, not sure what to make of all this information.

"You remember our deal," Triton instructed him, miraculously placing the Spear back in his grasp, "Find all the weapons and my sword, and use them to restore my body and my full powers. In return, you will have your vengeance against Turner and you will be reunited with my daughter, this time with my consent."

Jones looked down at the Spear in his hands as Triton gazed out the window again.

"Find me and free me, and together you and I will cause pain to this world that tortured us," Triton said, "Zeus' pathetic creation deserves to be burned to cinders, and from the ashes I will build a better world. One where suffering and avarice will cease to exist. And you... you can finally be with whom you love."

Jones continued to gaze down at the Spear, holding onto Triton's every word. He could obliterate the entire Earth if he so desired, just so long as he and Calypso were united once more.

"I accept-ah," Jones answered.

In another moment, Triton's silhouette disappeared, leaving Jones in the cabin alone and contemplating the future.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey guys! I know I haven't updated for a little bit, but here you go. This chapter mainly focuses on Davy Jones in particular, but I felt I needed to elaborate more on his motivation beyond just wanting to kill Will Turner in vengeance. Also, we get our first look at the mysterious Triton, son of Poseidon and the puppeteer behind Jones' strings, and see what his role in the story is. In addition, some more insight into the minds of the Templars is given as the reality of their situation really sinks in.**

 **Also, the actor I had in mind portraying Triton is James Purefoy. Thought he would be a good pick.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this expositionary chapter, and next time we shall cover the aftermath of the storm that shook the entire Caribbean and severely affected our protagonists. I'll try to get it up as soon as I can.**

 **Thanks guys, and stay classy!**


	12. Shipwrecked

Morning came. From the sounds of things, the storms had ceased raging. Will decided to investigate if it was safe to go outside, and so he left his basement and started to check if the cottage was still intact from above. Luckily, the storm hadn't damaged their home from the inside, so that seemed like a good sign.

But when Will stepped outside, he saw that he was terribly wrong. The storm had caused damage to the cottage roof, and many shingles had been ripped off. The pier down at the end of the grassy slopes had been torn up, though the _Flying Dutchman_ looked to be in no better or worse condition than it had been before. But probably the most harrowing of the destruction in his immediate vicinity was the nearby lighthouse, which had split in half from the top and now littered the nearby beach and shallow waters with rocky debris.

"Dear God," Will spoke aloud, taking in the sight of the destroyed lighthouse. If this is what happened to them...

Will did not hesitate; he dashed towards the somewhat-intact stables and mounted one of the horses stashed there. He didn't stop to go back to Elizabeth or Norrington or anyone before he took off.

 _"HYAH!"_ Will commanded the horse, galloping through the forest that separated their cottage from the rest of Port Charles. Once he had reached the outskirts, his mouth dropped in horror.

The town was nearly destroyed. Houses had their shutters hanging loose, buildings had their tops broken away, nearby farms had lost all their livestock, and people were in the streets trying to attend to their wounded. Not even the military garrison had gotten away clean as chunks of masonry had fallen down.

Will put a hand to his mouth, and he was trying his hardest to fight back tears at that moment.

This was all Jones' doing. It had to be. Only a monster such as him could be capable of inflicting this much pain.

He rode back to his home, where Elizabeth was standing outside next to Bootstrap, who was holding himself up with a crutch. Will pulled back on the reins to make the horse skid to a halt, and he quickly stepped off. He stared at his wife, wanting to tell her what had happened to the town. But he couldn't. The words would not leave his mouth.

Elizabeth walked closer and placed her hands on his shoulders, and tenderly asked, "Will... what happened?"

"Th- the town," Will eventually stammered, "it's... it's... gone. The storm, the... the whole town..."

Elizabeth embraced her husband tightly, trying to comfort him after the horror he had just witnessed.

"It takes a true monster to do something like this," Bootstrap remarked, looking out towards the destroyed lighthouse.

"And we very well know who that monster is, father," Will began, slowly releasing himself from Elizabeth's embrace.

"Aye, Jones is cruel, but..." Bootstrap continued, turning towards his son, "He's never done anything like this before. What could he possibly have to gain from all this wanton destruction?"

"Would it matter?" Will remarked, "That bastard will get what is coming to him soon enough, and this time I'll make sure to kill him properly."

"I'll come with you then," Bootstrap said, but at that moment Will raised his hand towards his father, saying, "No."

"What?" Bootstrap looked confused.

"You're in no condition to go anywhere on account of your leg," Will told him, "I need you to stay here and look after Elizabeth while I'm gone."

 _"What!?"_ Elizabeth questioned, now her turn to be confused with Will's state of mind.

Will quickly glanced over to her, but then quickly turned away and walked inside their home. Elizabeth followed close behind him.

"So what, you expect to go galivanting on the high seas while I stay here playing housewife?" Elizabeth argued as both she and Will climbed the staircase.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth, but with you in your condition, I can't ask you to-" Will began again.

"To what?" Elizabeth interrupted as they reached the upper landing, "To help find my own son? To stop you from getting yourself killed?"

They reached their bedroom, whereupon Will started to undress from the Redcoat uniform he was wearing the previous evening and began putting on his sailor's clothes from his wardrobe.

"I'm pregnant, not sick with the bloody pox!" Elizabeth continued to argue as Will put on his red shirt.

"I never said you were," Will's voice was tense as he continued dressing. This was not the time for an argument.

"Well, you sure have grand way of showing it!" Elizabeth retorted as Will was now putting on his boots.

"Elizabeth, we do not have time to argue!" Will retorted, looking away from her as he strapped his boots on properly.

"We've been married for twenty years, Will. I think we are _far_ overdue for an argument!" Elizabeth shouted.

"ENOUGH!" Will snapped, shutting the wardrobe doors violently. Elizabeth jumped from the increase in volume in his tone and stopped. Will turned around to face her and he looked mortified by what he just did.

"Elizabeth, I'm sorry," Will began, "I know you are strong. I know you are more than capable of helping. In fact, your strength is what I love about you most."

Will stepped forward and took her hand in his own.

"Hmph," Elizabeth said, "Flattery won't get you anywhere, Mr. Turner."

"It's not flattery, it's the truth," Will explained, "But this is bigger than either of us. Our son - _our son_ \- is somewhere out there in the sea. Davy Jones has returned from the dead, and he plans to kill all of us. I can't protect Henry if I have to worry about protecting you or my father at the same time."

"I can take care of myself," Elizabeth told him.

"I know you can," Will gave her a half smile, then placed his hands gently on her shoulders, "That's why I know you and the baby will be safe here. I am counting on you and Bill to look after each other."

Elizabeth looked away, swallowed, and then said, "I just don't want to lose you all over again. I've already spent twenty years alone. Please don't let me spend the rest of my life as a widow. Don't let another one of your children grow up without a father."

"I won't," Will told her earnestly, resting a hand on her belly, "You won't lose me. None of you will."

After a few moments of silence, Will then said, "But right now, Henry needs me, now more than ever. He went to hell and back to save me, and curse my soul to eternal damnation if I don't repay the debt."

Will gently pulled away and resumed getting himself ready. He put on his black overcoat, gathered his sword and two pistols, made sure to pack plenty of powder and ammunition, and finally grabbed a throwable hatchet that he placed on his belt. Before he closed his wardrobe again, he caught sight of the Dead Man's Chest sitting inside. Thinking about it for a moment, Will decided to bring it. If somehow Norrington attempted to renege on their agreement, he could simply force him to reason.

He took the chest, and the key, and then exited his home. Bootstrap was still standing outside from before, watching as his son exited the cottage.

"So, you'll be on your way, then?" Bootstrap inquired.

"Yes," Will said, "We've delayed our departure for far too long."

Bootstrap extended his arm out, and Will took his hand in his own.

"Godspeed, Will," Bootstrap told him, and Will smiled in return.

Just as he was about to walk down towards the _Dutchman,_ he heard Elizabeth call out from behind him.

"Will!" she said, coming up out the door and quickly towards him. Will then set the chest down upon the ground and went to meet her.

They met each other with a lengthy and passionate kiss, one full of absolute love for the other. After a few moments, they stopped kissing and the encounter morphed into a loving embrace.

"Bring our boy back home," Elizabeth nearly whispered into his ear.

They continued to embrace each other for several more moments, until finally Will whispered in her ear a single word.

"Lucy."

Elizabeth pulled back from the embrace, confused at what he meant.

"If I'm not back before long, name her Lucy," Will told her with a grin.

Elizabeth lips started to go wide, even with a trace of looming dread behind them.

"Lucy is a beautiful name," Elizabeth said, "but what if, just if, it's a boy?"

"I'll tell you myself when I get back," Will told her with a wink.

With that, Will finally pulled away from Elizabeth, picked up the chest, and walked down the grassy slopes where a rowboat had reached shore. They then made their way back to the _Dutchman_ and were hauled onto the deck. Norrington went over to meet Will, but his eyes became full of dread when he caught sight of the Dead Man's Chest.

"Why on earth did you bring that thing aboard?" Norrington asked indignantly, resting his hand over the hilt of his sword.

"Call it an insurance policy," Will began, "to make sure you uphold our deal. After we get Barbossa, we go straight for Henry, no questions asked."

"I cannot allow you to do that, Mr. Turner," Norrington said, becoming more and more impatient, "Do you realize what will happen if Jones regains control of the _Dutchman?"_

"Oh yes, I do," Will began, "As much as I realize what would happen if I dropped this."

Will set the chest down and pulled the jewel from Poseidon's Trident out of his pocket, extending the hand that was holding it out over the water.

 _"Are you mad!?"_ Norrington was furious, "We need that jewel!"

"Either the chest goes or this doesn't," Will proposed to him, "It's your choice, Captain Norrington."

Norrington then scoffed, remarking, "You truly have lost it, haven't you Turner?"

He then walked in the opposite direction and gave the order to haul anchor and take in sail. Will then placed the jewel back in his pocket as the _Dutchman_ began to sail away out to open sea.

Will looked out over the starboard aft back towards the cottage, seeing his father and his wife standing there watching him depart. He hated that he had to leave them behind, but he knew he had to do whatever it took to save Henry and stop Jones.

He vowed to return to them soon.

With that, the _Flying Dutchman_ began to sail for its first voyage in over a year, not knowing what perils lie ahead of them.

* * *

Henry doesn't remember when he lost consciousness. He figures he had to have passed out at some point, because when he finally awakens the sun hits his eyes with a blinding glare.

Shielding his eyes, it takes Henry a moment to get his bearings and remember where he was. He remembers that he was tossed aboard the _HMS Sword_ bound to stand trial for desertion in Port Royal, and then how the ship was caught in and destroyed by an almost unnatural lightning storm, himself having escaped only just in time.

It was then that Henry realized he was lying against a giant piece of driftwood from the _Sword's_ destroyed hull. He then started to breathe heavily, realizing he was alone in the middle of the Caribbean. He quickly lifted himself up and scanned his surroundings and saw nothing but ocean in every direction.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no," Henry panicked, realizing he was completely and utterly lost at sea. To make matters worse, he had no food, water, or any means of navigation.

He slowly lowered his head back down onto the wood, and then remarked aloud, "Now what am I going to do?"

Henry tried to conjure up whatever ideas he could to get out of his predicament, but he had none. It wasn't like he had a map handy, nor could he use his hands to paddle his way to the nearest landmass when none were in sight. He would most likely die of thirst before that plan would warrant any measure of effort.

He felt lost. Alone. Afraid. Afraid that he would die out here and nobody would known where he was. Afraid that he would never see his parents again. Afraid that he would never get a chance to meet his little brother or sister when they finally came.

But most of all, he feared never being able to see the woman he cared for most in this world, without ever having told her aloud that he loved her.

 _Carina..._

Just then, Henry noticed something out of the corner of his right eye. Turning his head to the right while laying down, he saw a spec of something in the distance. Could it possibly be...?

"HEY! HEEEEEEY!" he called over to the spec, hoping it was a passing ship. He started to flail his arms violently, praying that it would see him, "OVER HERE! HEEEEEELP!

He saw that whatever this spec was appeared to be coming closer to him. Henry squinted so that he could try to make out what it was in the distance. But as it came closer, Henry realized that it wasn't a ship much to his anguish.

But then, squinting harder, Henry could see that the spec looked like... a man, unconscious and draped over a barrel of some kind. Henry realized that this might be another survivor from the _Sword,_ and maybe there was something in that barrel that could help the both of them.

"HELLO!" Henry cupped his hands around his mouth, "ARE YOU STILL ALIVE!?"

No response. Still, Henry had to check. He couldn't just leave the man stranded all alone. So he stuck his arm into the water and started to paddle the driftwood closer to the barrel. After a considerable amount of time and effort, he made it over to where the man was, and Henry saw based on the blue color of his coat that he had to be one of the officers. His blond hair was messy and his uniform looked relatively ruined from the storm, and Henry hoped he was still alive.

Henry got close enough that he was within arm's length of the man. He reached out with his hand and placed it on his shoulder, but at the precise moment he did the man came alive with a violent scream followed by a splash of water.

After being disoriented from shock and splashing seawater for a moment, Henry looked ahead of him to see the barrel of a pistol pointed straight at him. He then looked past the pistol to see who was brandishing it.

It was Scarfield.

Somehow, Scarfield had managed to survive the storm. And now here he was, clinging onto this barrel with one hand while pointing his pistol at the young Turner. Henry was astounded that he, of all people, was still alive.

"You... _you..."_ Scarfield looked to be fuming right now. Henry had seen the man infuriated before, but now? Now he looked incandescent with rage.

"Commodore Scarfield, stay that pistol!" Henry put his hand up defensively, "Let's just calm down here!"

"It's all your fault," Scarfield began, "It has to be."

"Commodore, be reasonable now!" Henry pleaded, but Scarfield looked unmoving.

"That's two I've lost now... two ships... two crews... and you were there," Scarfield said through gritted teeth, "And somehow, I..."

Scarfield paused for a moment.

"How..." he began again, "How are you still alive!? How am _I_ still alive!?"

"I don't know," Henry began, "All I know for sure is that we are both still alive, and it would serve neither of us well if that were to change."

Scarfield looked away from Henry even if his pistol's barrel didn't. His mouth hung open as he gazed at the surrounding sea.

"Why am I still alive..." Scarfield said, his voice cracking, "Why am I still alive... but my men aren't?"

Henry cocked his head, looking at Scarfield with a mixture of confusion and pity.

"Captain goes down with his ship..." Scarfield began again, "... and I haven't. What kind of man does that make me, Turner?"

Henry thought about what to say in that moment, coming to realize that he had to choose his next words with careful precision.

"A survivor," Henry told him.

"No..." Scarfield told him dejectedly, "... it makes me a coward."

Scarfield then took his pistol and stopped pointing it at Henry, redirecting it towards himself.

"NO!" Henry called out fearfully, not wanting Scarfield to take his own life.

Scarfield paused, and then looked over to Henry and asked, "And why shouldn't I? Cowards deserved to be punished, do they not?"

"With respect, sir, you are not a coward," Henry continued pleading with him, "You're a survivor, just like me."

"You mean a _coward_ like you, isn't that right?" Scarfield retorted, "Tell me the truth now. You abandoned your crew, didn't you?"

"I never!" Henry continued to explain, "The _Monarch_ came under attack by the same dark force that took the _Essex."_

Scarfield remembers back to last year, when that behemoth of a ship somehow raised itself above the _Essex_ and crushed down upon it, destroying the man o' war in a fiery explosion.

"That was your ship, right?" Henry added, but Scarfield did not respond.

"What happened to you, happened to me," Henry explained, "Only one man ever survives to tell the tale, and that's what you and I did. We survived."

"They found me in the water after the battle," Scarfield told him, "I had stayed aboard like a good captain, but... I lived, and my men didn't. My promotion meant nothing because it was nothing compared to the honor I lost that night."

"It's not a matter of honor, it was just luck," Henry continued, "You were really, really, _really_ lucky then as you are now."

"Maybe you're right, boy..." Scarfield began, "but I don't deserve to be."

Before Henry could stop him, Scarfield pulled the trigger of his pistol.

 _Click!_

Henry yelped, but was relieved to see the pistol had not fired. Scarfield then looked down at the gun in disgust, and then chucked it onto the driftwood near where Henry was laying, and the latter jumped from the sudden act.

"DAMN IT! Wet powder!" Scarfield raged. He then faced up towards the sky and shouted, _"Why can't you just let me die!?"_

Scarfield then hung his head down, and Henry could swear it sounded like he was crying.

Henry took pity on the man. He had been through a great deal of suffering. Losing two ships under his command with himself being the only survivor? It must have taken a great toll on his spirit to say the least. He knew exactly what he was going through. He hadn't exactly formed a strong bond with the _Monarch_ crew but their deaths still lingered with him after Salazar's massacre.

 _Salazar..._

No, he couldn't think about him right now. Nothing was going to change the fact that he was now dead, and thinking about him would not help him one bit with getting out of this situation.

"Maybe... maybe God doesn't want you dead yet," Henry told him, and Scarfield looked up at him both distraught and confused.

"What are you getting at, Turner?" Scarfield asked.

"Maybe he has a purpose for you. For both of us," Henry explained, "That's why we're both still alive. That's why we're talking now. That's why we have to work together to stay alive as long as we can."

"To what end?" Scarfield asked, "We have neither food nor water, and even if we don't die of hunger or thirst, who's going to come and find us? And who's to say that in the meantime we don't try to kill each other?"

"I have faith that we won't," Henry told him, "We need each other if we're going to make it through this. What say you? Truce?"

Henry offered his hand out to Scarfield, who stared at it for a few moments in hesitation. As much as it pained him, he realized that if either of them hoped to survive they needed to work together.

"Truce," Scarfield said, taking Henry's hand in his own and shaking it. He then clambered over from the barrel to the driftwood and lied down alongside Henry.

"Hang on a minute," Henry began, "What's in that barrel?"

"I'd already checked it and all I could find was rope," Scarfield finished with a chuckle, "I mean, honestly! Of all the barrels of cargo in that whole ship, I get the one that has bloody rope in it!"

Both Henry and Scarfield started to laugh, recognizing the absurdity of everything. And here they were, two men that had tried to kill each other in the past, shipwrecked and occupying the same wooden raft in hopes of some elusive rescue.

"Commodore..." Henry began, but Scarfield said, "No need to be formal with me now. I have no ship to command and absolutely no one to impress."

"I'm going to pretend that wasn't an insult," Henry replied, but then continued with his original line of inquiry.

"Hey, do you have a first name?" Henry asked.

"Why so curious, Turner?" Scarfield wondered, raising an eyebrow.

"Just that if we are to work together, I can't just keep calling you 'Scarfield' just like you can't keep calling me 'Turner,'" Henry made his case, "Also in case I live and you die, I know what name to put on your tombstone."

"You have a fair point there," Scarfield relented, and the two were silent for a moment, staring up at the morning sky.

"John," Scarfield told him.

"John," Henry repeated, "Good to meet you."

"Good to meet you too, Henry," Scarfield replied.

Neither of them knew how they were to going to survive this, but the only thing they knew for sure is they would not die alone now.

* * *

 **A/N: Heyo! Another chapter for y'all. Hope you all enjoyed. The very next time I promise, promise, PROMISE that we'll get back to Carina and her end of the story, since I feel its been too great of a gap where she hasn't been used in the story. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and are looking forward to what comes next.**

 **So for now at least, Elizabeth and Bootstrap Bill will not be showing up anytime soon, leaving Will as the only of his family able to try to find Henry before death comes for him. But more mysterious threats loom around the corner for the Turner family.**

 **Thanks for reading and stay classy!**

 **\- Spent**


	13. Heir Apparent

It was around midday. The _Eagle_ had not sustained heavy damage in the storm, much to Barbossa's relief. He had been fortunate enough to not only escape the storm but also from the clutches of Davy Jones himself. When he had seen him through his spyglass the night before, he at first thought his mind had been playing tricks on him. But once the storm came, Barbossa had no doubt this was the same creature he had done battle with twenty years prior in the War for Piracy.

But among the many questions he had about last night, the one that stuck with him most was wondering just _how_ he had returned from the dead. The ship he was on did not resemble the _Flying Dutchman_ in the slightest, so he figured Calypso had not been responsible for it. Besides, she couldn't have done it for she no longer possessed the body of the obeah priestess capable of such magic, something that he himself had experience with.

Barbossa shivered at the mere memory of it as he leaned against the _Eagle's_ bow.

But it still did not answer his question, leaving him to question his own sanity on the matter.

After a considerable amount of time thinking, an idea suddenly popped into his mind: _Shansa._

Perhaps she knew something of Jones' return and ability to command the storms. She was a witch, after all, so it would not hurt to at least ask her opinion on the matter. Besides, he needed to plan his next course of action as soon as possible. He couldn't afford to sit idly by as that demon wreaked havoc not only on the sea but onto his very life. Calypso, Blackbeard, Beckett, Salazar, and every enemy he ever had had attempted to control his fate before but no longer. Jones, as before, would not be the master of his fate. Barbossa was determined now to control events rather than be controlled by them.

With that, Barbossa made his way over to his cabin where Shansa was resting on their cot. After the stresses of last night they were all overdue for some sleep. But not Barbossa. He couldn't fall asleep even if he tried. His mind was still overtaken with anger and dread for Jones that it drowned out all other thoughts.

Barbossa pulled back a chair and sat down upon it slowly, feeling a slight stiffness in his joints while he did so. It was then he finally acknowledged he was getting too old for this sort of business. He was pushing sixty when most pirates he knew hadn't even made it out of their twenties. Getting himself situated properly, he rested his head against his palm and stared at the sleeping Shansa for a long moment in silence. In this moment, seeing her at peace made himself feel the same way.

Barbossa had never been in love. As Carina had told him, he wasn't the romantic type, and as it happened he agreed with that assessment. The women he had had in his life were nothing more than passing fancies, one indistinguishable from the next.

But last year, something had sparked within the old pirate. Only last year did Barbossa learn that Jack Sparrow, his longtime rival, had been married once. In all the years he had known him, Jack never once told him about the time before he became a pirate. Then again, Barbossa never thought to ask him in the first place. He knew of Beckett's betrayal, of course, but he never suspected there was anything more to it than liberating slaves.

Barbossa sighed once more, the memory of Jack's sacrifice too fresh in his mind. He had chosen to lay down his own life to protect who he loved most in this world. Barbossa knew all too well that Jack was far too stubbornly good-natured to do anything but, and that if their roles were reversed he wasn't sure if he'd be willing to make the same decision Jack had made. After all, Barbossa never really had anyone in his life to love.

 _Love._

There was that cursed word again.

Pulling himself out of his mental digression, he stared longingly at Shansa as she continued to rest. They had been friends for years ever since he'd saved her from the gallows and lovers for about just the same amount of time, but in that moment Barbossa started to picture a future, a _real_ future, for the both of them. He could see himself married to her, before God this time, and maybe a couple of kids somewhere down the line.

Barbossa chuckled. Family. Stability. These concepts were foreign to him, and he wasn't sure if he deserved the chance given the number of evil deeds he had committed throughout his life, nevermind the fact that he wouldn't know what to do even if he did have the chance. Still, it doesn't stop him from hoping that one day, perhaps soon, that dream would become reality.

As he pictured in his mind the thought of Shansa as his wife while their sons and daughters ran around their plantation, his daydream was interrupted by the feeling of tiny, grasping hands running up his left arm.

"Ah!" Barbossa let out a gasp of surprise as he turned to see it was Jack the Monkey, his ex-undead pet capuchin, who had climbed up his arm.

"Jack, me boy!" Barbossa greeted the primate with a smile, "I was wonderin' where ye'd gone off to!"

Barbossa took his right hand and started to scratch under the monkey's chin. Amidst all the chaos of last night he had almost forgotten where he was. He was grateful that he was onboard the ship of all places, because he didn't know what to do if he had left him behind.

While Jack continued to chatter, Shansa had stirred at the noises and lifted her head up, awakening to see Barbossa sitting in the chair opposite of her with Jack on his arm. She smiled at the sight of them, for it was in quiet moments like these where the old pirate showcased that there was more to him than met the eye, an affectionate side that many people did not get to see.

"For all the cleverness and intuition that primates may display," Shansa began, capturing the attention of both Barbossa and Jack, "somehow mankind has failed to draw the connection between themselves and these creatures. As if they fear it would make them seem lesser than they are."

"Not up for a full minute and already yer givin' me another new lesson about the world," Barbossa chuckled, "And to answer that, men like to believe that they're above nature so they have some semblance of control."

"And yet, in the end, all men must yield to nature. It is the way of the world, and nothing can change that," Shansa continued, rising up from the cot, "We are all born, we all live, and we all inevitably die. Just as with grass between the seasons, or beasts in a forest, or even our own Sun with each day's end. For certain, there are things we may do to prolong our existence, sometimes even indefinitely..."

She trailed off, meeting Barbossa's gaze. She could detect a hint of discomfort behind them at her last words.

"... but never forever. Not even the gods are truly immortal. All we truly have, in the end... is life itself," Shansa finished.

Slowly but surely, Barbossa and Shansa started to lean forward towards each other, their eyes closing in mutual anticipation. But when they came to within inches of each other's faces, they abruptly stopped, opened their eyes, and leaned back again.

"I don't know what to do next, Shansa," Barbossa began, standing up from his chair as Jack clambored onto his shoulder. He turned away from Shansa and took a few steps forward while his gaze was elsewhere.

"I promised meself that I was done with this life," Barbossa continued in a somber tone, "and yet here I be with the gravest threat this world has e'er known unleashed once more."

Shansa stood up herself from the cot, her silken witch's garments trailing on the wooden floor as she walked towards Barbossa. She could tell that, based on the inflection in his voice, that all of this was making him uneasy. At one point she figures he would not have been afraid of the fight to come, but he was far younger and more certain of himself the last time Jones had ravaged the seas.

"Then ask yourself this, Hector," Shansa offered, continuing to approach him, "How did you defeat Davy Jones the last time?"

"Well, I wasn't the one who beat him, actually. It was Turner who-"

Barbossa stopped, having a sudden epiphany on the situation.

"Turner," Barbossa repeated the name, "Of course! If I know anythin' about Jones, he's one to hold a grudge. No doubt sooner or later he'll be huntin' down Captain Turner for what happened all those years ago, mark my words."

Barbossa's enthusiasm dipped slightly when he realized that while he may have figured out Jones' motivation, he was still no closer to finding a way to beat him a second time, especially since now he possessed some manner of controlling the storms.

"But how to _stop_ him... hmm..." Barbossa contemplated the matter for a moment, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword, before the answer hit him like a broadside.

Barbossa instantly unsheathed the Sword of Triton and began closely observing it. Why didn't he think of it sooner? This sword was the weapon of a god, capable of all forms of black magic. Certainly this would be capable of dispatching Jones, immortal or not.

As he continued to note the Sword, Barbossa's attention once again fell upon the empty jewel slots in the weapon's hilt, save for the single red sapphire it contained. It was then, at that moment, he remembered something he had said only the day before.

 _"The blue eyes of sapphire..."_ Barbossa's eyes widened at this revelation, the connection clear to him at last.

Carina had arrived only yesterday inquiring about the Shield of Athena, another weapon forged by the gods capable of engaging armies. Legend described the shield containing two blue sapphires that made the eyes of Medusa. He looked at the empty slots in the Sword's hilt, counting four in all.

Could the Shield and the Sword possibly be connected to each other?

"Carina," Barbossa uttered aloud, turning to face Shansa who continued to remain focused on him.

"What is it, Hector?" Shansa asked him.

"She was onto somethin', Shansa. I know she was," Barbossa began pacing the cabin, "I didn't think to draw the link twixt her askin' about Athena's Shield and Jones' return but now I see. Carina might not have known of Jones, but its no coincidence that these happenin's were within the same day as each other. There's somethin' else going on here."

"It is I who speak in riddles, and yet I have no idea what you're talking about," Shansa told him.

Barbossa stopped pacing and held up the Sword for her to see.

"You know of this blade's magic?" Barbossa asked her.

"Aye, a dark and ancient power unlike that I have ever seen," Shansa answered.

"I can't say exactly what binds the two, but I know that the Sword and the Shield have somethin' to do with the other. I feel it in me bones," Barbossa continued, "I have no doubt that Jones bein' able to hold sway over lightning and thunder is connected too. These weapons may be our only chance of stoppin' him once and for all."

"So you're saying you have a plan of action now?" Shansa asked of him.

"Aye, that I do," Barbossa affirmed, "Carina's in pursuit of the Shield, but as of now we have no idea where she might be. Our only choice now is to meet up with Turner - if he's still alive - warn him of Jones' return if we can, and then see what we can do about finding both Carina and the Shield. We'll need all the help we can get in this fight."

Barbossa sheathed his sword and thrust the cabin doors open.

"Chart a course for Port Charles, gents! We have a rendezvous with the _Flying Dutchman!"_ Barbossa ordered the crew, "Step-to and man the yards ye sad lot of jackanapes!"

The crew immediately made preparations to depart for Port Charles next, and Barbossa took the wheel of the _Eagle_ ready for the journey to come.

Though he would prefer to avoid the situation altogether, desperate times called for desperate measures.

* * *

Carina was sitting at her desk, her legs crossed with her boots resting on the table. She held her compass in one hand while using the other to repetitively open and shut the lid, doing so in a rather rough manner. She kept her tricorn cocked down over her eyes, though it was obvious to anyone watching that she was in a very bad mood.

In the span of less than forty-eight hours, Carina had a weeks-planned heist fail spectacularly, faced off against the _literal Devil of the Seas_ who was one of her father's greatest enemies and kidnapped three of her best men, and survived a rampaging storm that came out of nowhere and threatened to send the _Pearl_ to the depths.

Correction: being in a bad mood would be putting it mildly.

Carina roughly closed the lid of her compass again, still not over the events of the previous evening. Right now, all she could think about was Davy Jones and how much she hated him. She knew next to nothing about him but hated him with every fiber of her being. This was the creature her father had been indebted to, the one that held Henry's grandfather in his clutches for over ten years, the one responsible for Will Turner being bound to the _Dutchman_ for twenty. Not to mention the fact he had terrorized the seas for generations.

Henry told her over a year ago that Jones died at the hands of his father, and his body fell into a raging maelstrom never to be seen again. And now, after being dead for over twenty years, he somehow returned to the living world and had the nerve - no, the _audacity -_ to threaten her and expect her to just take it lying down.

Carina doesn't think she's hated someone as much as Jones, with the exception being Salazar.

 _No, don't think about that right now, Carina. He's dead, Jones is not. Focus now._

Carina abruptly stopped flicking the lid of her compass and tossed it onto the desk. She craned her neck back and started to rub her temples, knowing that stress would only make things worse.

She could deal with not having Pintel and Ragetti around for the time being, but Gibbs was a different story. He had been nothing but supportive ever since she became captain of the _Pearl,_ especially once Barbossa decided she was ready to be out on her own. He always had helpful advice to give when she needed it and knew how to keep the ship in order, not to mention that he had more than a few stories about Jack and their adventures together over the years.

Now Gibbs was gone, at the mercy of Jones. Carina prayed that he was still alive, for she didn't know what she would do without him. She barely even knew what to do next.

But she did know a few things. That strange-looking spear Jones was carrying had an eerie, supernatural glow about it not unlike the Trident of Poseidon. He had used it to disable the _Pearl's_ gunpowder, and through the power of deductive reasoning she believed it also to be the cause of the storm last night. There had been no prior signs of one yesterday and it nearly claimed the ship and her crew.

The Spear had to be the source of his power, it was the only reasonable explanation. And from what she knew about both the Spear and the Trident, Carina inferred that perhaps Athena's _Aegis_ might be of a reminiscent nature and could be used to destroy Jones.

To hell with Barbossa, she thought. As soon as she stopped in Tortuga and resupplied the _Pearl_ with the necessary cargo and munitions, she would set out for the _Aegis_ , use it to kill Jones, and save her crew. Carina was not without reservations, but she felt like she didn't have any other choice in the matter.

Besides, it would only increase her reputation in the world. She could imagine it now: _Carina Sparrow, discoverer of the Aegis, slayer of Davy Jones._ Perhaps then more people, both friend and foe, would be inclined to take her seriously as a pirate. Carina couldn't help but smirk at the thought of it.

"Land-ho!" one of the crew called out from above deck.

Carina, shaken from her thoughts of grandeur, took her boots off the desk and stood up from her chair, grabbing her compass and quickly making her way out of her cabin. She looked to port to see the pirate haven of Tortuga not far off. But as she continued to observe the town she realized that something was off. After another crewmember handed her a spyglass, Carina looked through the lens to see that several buildings had collapsed while a few ships were either beached or capsized.

"Bloody hell," Carina remarked, lowering the spyglass. It seemed that she wasn't the only one affected by Jones' wrath. Hopefully there was enough of the outlaw confederacy intact for her to acquire the supplies she needed.

Looking through the spyglass again, Carina tried to see if there were any ships still afloat at the harbor. After a few moments of browsing, she suddenly stopped when one of the ships caught her eye.

"That's the _Queen Anne's Revenge,"_ Carina commented aloud, recognizing the legendary sloop, "What's she doing here?"

The _Revenge_ had previously belonged to the infamous pirate Blackbeard before he was slain by Barbossa, who had taken the ship as his own. After Barbossa had decided to retire from piracy, he made his first-mate Scrum the captain of the ship. Carina didn't know Scrum too well having only met him once or twice, but Barbossa seemed to think he was trustworthy and that was good enough for her. Maybe if she could manage it, she could try to convince Scrum to join her on her quest for Athena's Shield and to stop Davy Jones. Two ships were better than one after all, and the _Revenge_ was a formidable vessel that could prove a valuable ally in the conflict to come.

Closing the spyglass and handing it back to the crewmember, Carina directed her attention to the rest of the crew.

"Reef the mains and drop anchor!" Carina ordered, and the men set out to bringing the _Pearl_ to dock at the nearest available pier. After docking the _Pearl,_ Carina and some of the crew disembarked from the ship onto the pier.

"Alright," Carina spoke to her crew without directly facing them, "We don't know what's left standing and we're short on time. We'll need to split up to get what we need."

"And what all do we need, ma'am?" Murtogg asked her.

"Yeah, and if you plan on taking on Davy Jones, its best to be prepared for the worst," Mullroy continued.

"Not a problem, gentlemen," Carina said, turning to face the crew, "You two will be in charge of procuring food for the next few weeks. Cotton, take some men and see about rum rations..."

Cotton looked delighted for a huge grin broke out on his face, and his parrot responded with "RAWK! Down in the drink!" Murtogg and Mullroy looked enviously annoyed.

"You lot back there, see about procuring weapons for yourselves. Swords, pistols, muskets, axes, the like. Just do it quickly and make sure its what you all need," Carina continued as she addressed more of the crew, "Marty, you and I will go and see about stocking up on cannon shot and ammunition."

Marty had a fondness for artillery, so this was right up his alley. He responded with an enthusiastic, "Aye, aye Captain!"

"Glad to here it," Carina addressed the dwarf, "As for the rest of you, you know your tasks so get to it. Daylight's burning."

With that, the crew dispersed and set out to acquire the supplies. Carina and Marty made their way along the main road, which was mostly clear of debris from the surrounding buildings. Still, the mood among the pirates in the town didn't really seem much diminished in spite of what happened the previous evening. There were men drinking heavily, getting into brawls, and firing guns into the air as they walked by as if nothing happened.

"Just another day in Tortuga, eh Captain?" Marty joked, but Carina didn't respond. She was too busy trying to avoid being caught in the middle of a two-man brawl that crossed in front of them. The older gentleman was punching the younger one in the nose while his grip was tight on his shirt. Once they had passed, a woman with dirty-blonde hair in a green dress approached them.

"Would either of the two of you be interested in some... _fine_ company?" she asked.

Marty, who had a look of excitement on his face, started saying, "Well, now that you ment-"

Carina put her right hand over the dwarf's mouth to keep him from speaking.

"We're fine, thank you. We'll just be on our way," Carina said to the woman, forcing herself to smile and be polite.

"Aww, and you looked so tempting too. For you, I would've only charged half-price," the woman said with a pouty lip.

Carina blinked, "I'm sorry, but I'm a woman."

She removed her hat as if to emphasize her point to the wench that she was not a man, but the wench didn't seem at all surprised.

"And?" she asked nonchalantly.

Carina's eyes widened after a moment of realization and she said, _"Oh."_

Placing her hat back on, she then stepped to the side so she could continue on with Marty following close behind. The wench scoffed.

"Marty, we are never to speak of this again," Carina told the dwarf, trying to push the encounter out of her mind so she could focus on finding someone selling munitions.

Eventually they came across a vendor on one of the side streets selling war materiel foraged from the wrecks of British and French vessels up north. It seemed as if this conflict between King George and King Louis was escalating, and for smugglers and privateers that meant profit.

"Case shot! Canister! Eighteen-pounders! Mortars! Rajit has wares if you have coin!" the vendor called out hoping to attract customers. Fortunately for him, Carina was in need of his services.

"Ah, good day to you madam," Rajit addressed Carina and Marty, "How can I help you?"

"Good day," Carina began, placing a hand on the vendor's counter and observing what he had to offer, "I need four crates of twelve-pound round shot, two of the same weight in case shot, two more crates of six-pounders, and enough gunpowder for the lot of it."

Rajit stared at her for a few moments, his mouth hanging open slightly as he processed her request in his head. He then started to chuckle, and Carina cocked her head in confusion.

"I apologize, my dear," he began, "but I only trade with ship captains."

Now it was Carina's turn to laugh, and when she finished, she said, "But I _am_ a ship captain."

"And I'm heir apparent to the Holy Roman Empire," Rajit laughed, but Carina was becoming rather impatient.

"That's my ship, just over there. See?" Carina pointed out towards the docked _Pearl,_ visible from where she and the vendor were standing.

"The _Black Pearl?"_ Rajit questioned, "Last I knew it belonged to Jack Sparrow."

"And now it belongs to me, his daughter," she tried explaining to him, but Rajit merely laughed again.

"Oh lass, you're really pulling my leg today, aren't you? God knows I've been in need of a good laugh!" he couldn't contain his amusement.

"You've never heard of me?" Carina asked of him, "Carina Sparrow? I've stopped by Tortuga more than a few times this past year. Surely you must've heard something about me."

Rajit shook his head, "Nope, can't say that I have. Sorry."

It was now Marty's turn to speak, and he said, "She speaks the truth, mate. She's the _Pearl's_ new captain."

"Come now, my impish friend. There's no way that a crew of pirates would take a woman aboard as their captain," Rajit argued, "It's just not..."

Rajit hesitated, and Carina was starting to become irritated with the man. She figured he must've gotten nervous based on the expression on his face.

"If you say that it's not natural..." Carina began, but Rajit cut her off saying, "No, no! I was about to say that it was not common, but then I remembered there was another woman that arrived in Tortuga yesterday claiming she was a ship captain too. Bought a king's ransom worth of fire shot from me, she did."

Carina suddenly became intrigued, "Another woman captain you say? Is she still in town?"

"Figure as much since none of the ships left port since before the storm," Rajit explained.

"And where might I find her now?" Carina asked.

"If you ask me, you're likely to find her at the _Faithful Bride._ Said something about recruiting a crew for her next venture," Rajit continued, "Hard to miss her. Buxom figure, cup-hilt rapier, cross around her neck. She sounded Spanish, I think."

Carina tensed slightly at that last bit of information. She wasn't exactly fond of Spaniards given what happened last year.

"Well, thank you sir," Carina said to him, "Now, about those munitions..."

"I'm sorry but I only trade with ship cap-"

His words were cut off when Carina dropped a bag of coins onto the counter. Rajit looked inside to see it full of Spanish dollars.

"You have wares, I have coin," Carina stated with a smirk, crossing her arms.

"What was it that you wanted again?" Rajit asked her enthusiastically. Carina looked quite pleased herself.

"I'm glad we've come to an understanding," Carina told him.

"Tell you what," Rajit added, "Just for that, I'll throw in a box of grenadoes, no charge."

"Grenadoes?" Carina inquired.

"Here," Rajit said, reaching from beneath his desk and placing a metal ball with a fuse fixed to it, "it's a bomb you can carry with you. Light the fuse, throw it, and watch something explode. Real treat, that is. A gift from good ol' Georgie himself."

Carina picked up the grenado, tossed it up, and caught it again. This should be fun.

Some time later, the powder and munitions were prepped and ready to be loaded onto the _Pearl._

"That's enough ammo to take on a bloody armada," Marty commented.

"We're going to need it if we come across Davy Jones again, and this time we'll be ready," Carina told him, "See that these are loaded onto the _Pearl._ I'm going to look for Scrum and see if he can't help us, and maybe I'll happen upon this mystery woman and see what her game is."

Carina walked away, leaving Marty in a state of temporary bewilderment. She expected him to help load this ammunition all by himself?

"Oh boy," the dwarf remarked, intimidated by the large crates and powder barrels near him.

* * *

Carina approached the _Faithful Bride,_ one of the more "prominent" taverns in Tortuga. As she approached, she noticed the sign hanging outside was held up by a single chain, for the other one had broken off, likely due to the storm the evening before.

But it was also possible the sign had just been like that beforehand.

Carina opened the doors to the establishment and was greeted with the sight of more of what was going on outside. Men were either passed-out drunk or brawling with one another, smashing bottles and chairs over one another's heads. Carina ducked to avoid being hit by a flying beer bottle that had missed its intended target. Even when she worked as a barmaid in St. Martin, the _Rusty Anchor_ was never this rowdy. But hey, this is what you got for throwing your lot in with pirates.

She approached the bar, sat atop the barstool, and slammed a coin onto the counter.

"Rum flip, please," she addressed the bartender, who proceeded to make her drink upon request. Once he finished he set the drink down upon the bar, but before Carina could pick up the glass, one brawler had his grip tightened around the second brawler's throat as he slammed his back onto the bar just to the left of where Carina was sitting. Acting quickly, the second brawler grabbed hold of Carina's glass and smashed it onto the first brawler's head, causing his grip to loosen and the drink to spill down his head. The two then resumed their fighting elsewhere. Carina merely blinked at the chaos, disappointed and confused, but when she turned back towards the bartender he had finished making another rum flip for her.

"No additional charge, lass," he said almost apologetically. Carina thanked him by taking the drink into her hands as soon as possible, and he went to attend to another customer.

After a large gulp of her drink, Carina set her glass down and rummaged around her coat. She pulled out the scroll and laid it down upon the bar, seeing the design of the _Aegis_ upon it once more. Soon she would be in pursuit of the Shield, once the _Pearl_ had been loaded with the supplies she purchased. But from there, nothing was going to stop her from searching for it and she would not rest nor deviate until she found it.

Though that was not to say she was without apprehensions. She remembers very well the difficulty it took to find the Trident, and if the Shield was anything like it in terms of power she had no doubt it would still be hard to find. That's to say nothing of the dangers she may encounter along the way, whether it be Jones or some other force, in addition to whatever she may find once she found it. But this time, she had experience, an armed ship, and her father's magic compass to aid her on her quest.

Still, she wishes she had more people she could trust. Her crew were fine, but losing Gibbs to Jones' captivity made her feel uneasy; he had been the strongest lynchpin connecting her to the rest of the men, as they were experienced buccaneers whereas she only became captain just last year.

She wishes that Henry were here. He would probably know more about the _Aegis_ right now than she ever would. Besides, she missed his company and would to have him along for another adventure. But she knew that he was probably better off with his family anyway, and Carina didn't want to put the burden of Davy Jones on the Turners after everything they had suffered. Perhaps when this was all over she would visit him.

Carina blushed at the thought.

"Uuuuugh…" someone groaned to Carina's right, and she looked at the slumped figure next to her resting against the bar. He slowly started to pick up his head and placed a hand to where his head was throbbing from a hangover. His beady eyes slowly opened and it took a second for his eyes to adjust to the light.

"Miss Carina!" he merrily exclaimed, recognizing her.

"Scrum!" Carina said, noting just how oddly coincidental his sitting right next to her was, "Just the man I was looking for! How've you been?"

"I'm in-between contracts at the mo- _HIC!-_ moment, but I'd say I'm fine," Scrum explained to her, "So, how's uh... how's the farm doin'?"

"I don't quite follow," Carina looked puzzled.

"You breed donkeys, right? Isn't that was astronomers do?" Scrum asked. Carina laughed, but she realized he might not have been joking.

"No, no, no, astronomers study the stars, my friend," Carina explained, "but these days I've been focused more on pirating."

"Oh I see," Scrum said, and then proceeded to order himself a drink. After doing so, he caught sight of Carina's scroll.

"What do we have here?" Scrum asked, getting a good look at the _Aegis._

"My next venture," Carina told him, "and I was hoping that you and the _Revenge_ might join me in pursuit of it."

"You know me, I'd love to. I'm always up for adventure," Scrum told her, "but you'd have to talk to the Captain first."

Carina was confused, "But aren't _you_ the _Revenge's_ Captain? I thought Barbossa appointed you."

"Yeah he did, but... few months back this Spanish lady I knew a long time ago shows up and takes charge of the crew," Scrum explained.

"And you just let her?" Carina asked.

"She's rather scary, truth be told," Scrum said, "I fear her more than I do Barbossa."

"Hmm..." Carina said, drinking down the rest of her glass, "Well, how about I go and have a chat with her, woman to woman? I'm sure we'll be able to agree to something."

"Best of luck with that, Carina. Most likely you'll find her in the cellar here," Scrum told her, and Carina nodded. Taking the scroll and putting it back in her coat, she walked away from the bar towards the cellar door. Upon opening it, she noticed there were several lanterns lit illuminating the passageway. At the end of the passageway, Carina saw a rather large room filled to the brim with barrels of various alcohols, many standing atop of one another. At the far end there were two large baskets for grape-stomping to make wine. Carina also noticed various pulley systems designed for bringing the barrels to the bar area, which she saw went upward and then through a large hole capable of fitting large barrels through it.

Carina was wondering why this woman would choose to reside down here of all places when she was greeted with the sight of a steel blade that extended from around the corner and was a mere inch away from her neck.

 _"Hola niña. Qué estas haciendo aquí?"_ a sultry, feminine voice spoke in Spanish. Carina became agitated at the hostility, and realized she might have made a mistake coming down here.

"Speak bloody English, why don't you?" Carina spat, her temper rising, "And come out from there instead of hiding in the shadows like a coward."

" _Coward,_ you say?" the voice said in English, and she stepped out from around the corner and revealed herself to Carina. She wore a dark maroon overcoat over a loose cambric shirt held in by a black-leather corset, which only seemed to emphasize her buxom figure as described by the vendor. She did indeed wear a golden cross around her neck, and her sword was a well-polished cup-hilt rapier that she continued to point at her. Long, messy brown hair extended well past her shoulders, and atop her head was a leather hat with a pheasant plume not unlike the one Barbossa had.

The Spanish woman's brown eyes peered into Carina's blue, and there was a brief moment where something clicked within the former.

"You look... familiar," she said, her rapier lowering slightly, "Where have I seen you before?"

"Would it matter?" Carina irritably spoke, "You stole my friend's ship, and I would appreciate if you gave it back to him post haste."

"The _Revenge_ belongs to me, no matter what that fool upstairs may have told you," the Spanish woman told her, taking a few steps closer to Carina.

"And here I thought we could be civil with one another," Carina said, and she suddenly kicked the Spaniard back some distance, giving her the opportunity to draw her cutlass.

The Spaniard chuckled, "You think this wise, _chica?"_

"Hey, you started it," Carina retorted.

"Suit yourself," said the woman.

She took a few steps back slowly, rapier raised, while Carina slowly approached with her own weapon at the ready. They came to the center of the room and then started to circle each other slowly, observing the other's movements very carefully.

Carina struck first with two strokes that were blocked by the Spaniard. She retaliated by a series of high strikes that Carina blocked, though the movement did force her back towards a large stack of barrels. The Spaniard then proceeded to strike both high and low sequentially, and then tried to go for a central strike believing Carina to be off-balance. However, Carina was able to block the strike and redirected it towards the barrels behind her, the Spaniard's blade sinking into one of them. Carina then stepped away and got behind where the Spaniard was, sword at the ready. The woman pulled the tip of her blade out of the barrel, and beer flowed from where the metal had struck onto the floor. The Spaniard then refocused her attention on Carina.

"You know what you're doing. I like that," the Spaniard complimented with a grin, but Carina merely rolled her eyes.

"Oh shut up," Carina said, and she struck again. Another series of blows were exchanged between the two and they ended up in the center of the room again. The Spaniard did some flourishing with her rapier, causing Carina to lean back to avoid her strike. After backing away from her some, the Spaniard did the same flourishing again and this time Carina had to jump up to avoid the blade meeting her boots.

Carina landed expecting to find solid ground, but instead felt something mushy beneath her boots. She looked down and saw that she was standing in the grape basket, and the bottoms of her boots were covered in mushed grapes.

The Spaniard tauntingly laughed at Carina's misfortune, which only added to the latter's frustration. Still standing in the grape basket, Carina exchanged more blows with the Spaniard's rapier, and the mysterious woman's attacks became more and more intricate as the duel progressed. Carina, having only a year's worth of practice, found it difficult to keep up with the Spaniard's skill. So, she decided it was time to employ the trademark Sparrow wit.

Carina and the Spaniard's sword swung in attack towards each other at the exact same time, and the blades began grinding together.

"You have talent, yes, but talent is nothing without cunning to match it," the Spaniard tried to discourage her, but Carina wasn't having it.

"Who said I wasn't cunning?" Carina asked her. With that, she raised her knee into the Spaniard's stomach, causing her to lose her stability. Carina then struck a hard blow with her sword and the Spaniard fell onto the ground. Without hesitation, she lifted her leg out of the basket she was in and kicked the other basket towards the woman. The basket flipped over and landed on the Spaniard, covering her in grapes.

"How do you like them apples... er, grapes actually?" Carina attempted to quip, which in turn riled up the Spaniard even further. Before she could regain her stance, Carina got out of the basket and made for the other side of the cellar. The woman meanwhile thrust the basket off of her and picked herself up, seeing she was drenched in juiced grapes.

"You're dead now!" the Spaniard roared, but by then Carina made her way over to one of the cellar's pulleys. A barrel was already attached to the rope, and Carina got herself atop of it just as the Spaniard made her way over to her.

"Well, as you can see I'm still alive, so... nope," Carina jested, and with that swung her sword at the pulley mechanism nearby. This in turn caused the barrel she was standing on to ascend upward towards the bar. The Spaniard noticed an empty barrel was being brought down from the other side of the pulley, and once the rope had descended down close enough to her, she cut the rope with a single strike from her rapier.

"WHOA!" Carina exclaimed, feeling her ascent stop abruptly as she started to fall. Acting quickly, she grabbed onto one of the stacked barrels to keep herself from falling to the floor. When she saw Carina had not fallen down, the Spaniard then began to climb up the stacked barrels herself towards her. Carina saw the woman approaching her, and so she made every effort to get herself to the hole that led to the bar as soon as possible.

However, while she was climbing, Carina placed a hand on a barrel that was not secured tightly enough, causing the barrel to fall out of place and Carina to fall herself once again. The barrel itself nearly missed the Spaniard while she was climbing, and crashed onto the ground with a loud thud and whiskey spilling all over the cellar floor.

Carina was able to catch onto another barrel with her left hand, but saw that now she was at about even level with the Spaniard.

"Damn," Carina cursed, and then proceeded to avoid a blow from the Spanish woman's sword. The next two strikes she was able to deflect before deciding she had best get away from her. Carina began scaling the barrels while deflecting more strikes from the Spaniard. Realizing she needed an edge, she leapt back onto the rope she had ascended on and swung back. Legs forward, Carina then swung towards the stunned Spaniard and kicked her once more, causing her grip on the barrels to slip and fall. Unfortunately, she grabbed onto the same rope as Carina, and so Carina started to climb up the rope with great haste. Eventually, she made it to the top of the pulley and climbed through the hole for the barrels, resting only once her knees made contact with solid ground.

"If you wanted another drink, you could've just asked," the bartender's voice sounded out, and Carina looked up to see him standing before her with two foaming mugs in his hands. She realized that this passage led directly behind the bar.

Getting up off of her knees, Carina told the man, "Put it on my tab."

She heard grunting noises behind her, and saw that the Spanish woman had reached the hole herself and began to climb out, rapier first.

"This too," Carina added, grabbing one of the two mugs the bartender was holding. After taking a quick drink of it, she chucked it towards the ground, but it did nothing to stop the Spaniard in her pursuit of her.

Carina pushed the bartender back against the wall and she and the Spaniard resumed dueling behind the bar. Several people in the bar, many of whom engaged in brawls themselves, temporarily stopped what they were doing to watch the spectacle of two women swordfighting.

Carina attempted to strike a blow, but the Spaniard caught onto it and directed the blade into the bar counter. Afterwards, she punched Carina square in the face, causing her to stumble backwards for a moment. Afterwards, she grabbed the other mug in the frightened bartender's grasp and flung it towards Carina, who dodged it by rolling over the top of the bar and into the middle of the main room.

The people sitting nearby started to get up from where they were sitting, and Carina made herself ready. The Spaniard was prepared to start fighting her once again, but decided on a different approach. She grabbed a bottle from the shelf behind her and chucked it towards Carina, and the latter ducked before it could hit her. The Spaniard threw two more bottles at her, and Carina dodged one while shattering the other with her sword.

Frustrated, the Spaniard vaulted over the bar and brandished her rapier, and started to fight her once again for the whole establishment to see. Carina leapt up onto a table and began to fight the Spaniard from there, and soon after the Spaniard jumped up and started performing moves with unbelievable speed. Carina, realizing she couldn't match this, jumped off the table and ran towards the door. The Spaniard reengaged her and the thrusts became even more violent. Eventually, she was able to get Carina wide open and kicked her in the chest, sending her flying back through the tavern's door and causing her to drop her sword.

"Ugh!" Carina grunted as she fell onto the muddy ground just outside the tavern. She looked up and saw the Spaniard start to approach her, and her rapier glistened in the afternoon sun. Seeing no other choice, Carina pulled out her pistol and aimed it at the woman who froze in place.

"Hmph," the Spaniard said, seemingly undeterred by the sight of a gun, "Well played. Next time you should lead with that."

Carina said nothing, but continued to aim her pistol at her.

"Your technique... it seems familiar," the Spaniard said, "Who taught you how to fight?"

"It's none of your business, now yield!" Carina demanded, but the Spaniard was still undeterred.

"Oh child, you still have so much left to learn," the woman said with a smirk.

In another moment, the tip of her rapier somehow found its way under Carina's gun and suddenly thrust it upward. Instinctively, Carina pulled the trigger, causing the shot to strike at the lone chain holding the tavern's sign up. Carina looked up and saw that the chain broke, causing the sign to fall down towards her.

"Oh bugger," Carina said before the sign whacked against her head and knocked her unconscious.

* * *

Carina felt a painful throbbing sensation in her head when she awoke. But probably more pressing was a foul odor that assaulted her sense of smell without mercy. Carina slowly opened her eyes to the sight of several pigs surrounding her. She looked down around her and saw she was covered in mud - at least she _hoped_ it was only mud.

She silently vowed to kill whoever had thrown her into the pig pen.

"Oh God, I think I'm going to throw up," Carina voiced her disgust as a pig nuzzled itself under her arm. She thereafter stood herself up and walked away from the pen, stumbling because she was still rather disoriented from the blow to the head.

She remembered the fight she had had with the Spanish woman, and was beyond irritated she had let her best her. Barbossa would be very disappointed in her. But at least the fight was over now. Scrum wouldn't get control of the _Revenge_ , so she could count him out of joining her quest for the Shield.

But just then, Carina realized something was terribly wrong. She reached into her coat pocket for the scroll, but she couldn't find it.

"Oh no," Carina said aloud. This wasn't good. Did she lose the scroll during the fight, or did someone take it from her?

As she continued searching for the scroll on her person to make sure she hadn't lost it, Carina came to another terrible realization.

Her compass was missing.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no!" Carina panicked. She couldn't have lost that compass. It belonged to her father and it was absolutely irreplaceable. Without it, she wouldn't be able to find the Shield.

And just then, something clicked together inside her mind. Both the scroll and her compass were gone, and she had a fairly certain idea where they were.

"The Spaniard," Carina said aloud in horror. She had stolen what rightfully belonged to her.

With haste, she began to rush through the town, seeing that the sun had started to go down over all of Tortuga. If she had any hope of getting her compass back, she had to be quick.

But she was too late. By the time she got to the harbor, the _Queen Anne's Revenge_ was gone.

"Dammit!" Carina shouted. The ship could be anywhere by now. How could she have been so stupid?

Instantly, her eyes caught sight of the harbormaster on one of the nearby docks. Maybe he had some idea about where the _Revenge_ went.

"You there!" Carina called out, getting the man's attention, "There was a ship here not long ago, the _Queen Anne's Revenge._ Any idea where it went?"

"Pardon?" the harbormaster asked, but Carina had no patience.

"Big sloop, blood-red sails, gold paint in some areas? It's hard to miss," Carina explained.

"Oh yes, it left some hours ago," he explained, "but I have no idea where it might be going."

"Come now, you must remember something," Carina was becoming desperate.

"Well, I may have heard some whispers- hey!"

Carina suddenly grabbed the harbormaster by his shirt and dragged him to the edge of the pier.

"What exactly did you hear?" Carina asked very aggressively, holding firm onto the man's shirt. This was a lesson of Barbossa's that she took to heart: when pressed, sometimes the only way to get what you want is brute force.

"Look lassie, the Spaniard paid me not to tell anyone where she was going!" the harbormaster explained hoping to not suffer Carina's wrath, "She'd kill me if she knew I talked to you!"

"And what makes you think I won't?" Carina asked through gritted teeth.

"Havana!" the man shouted, "She said something to her crew about heading to Havana! Didn't say what for or why! I swear that's all I know!"

Carina let go of the man's shirt and backed away, and the harbormaster ceased panicking.

"Oh, thank you," he said, but Carina didn't care.

"Havana..." Carina repeated. That was Spanish territory. But she had to get there in order to retrieve her compass and find the Shield. How did this woman expect to get a pirate ship through to Havana? And how would Carina be able to get the _Pearl_ close enough without being spotted? Most importantly, what was the woman's business there of all places?

"Does this Spaniard have a name?" Carina asked the harbormaster.

"Teach," he told her, "Angelica Teach."

* * *

"Steady as she goes," Angelica instructed her helmsman, and the _Queen Anne's Revenge_ glided across the ocean towards Havana. Scrum was making his way across deck, but before he could reach his intended destination Angelica called out, "First-mate!"

"Yeah?" Scrum directed his attention at her.

"To me," Angelica ordered, and Scrum apprehensively made his way towards her. Eventually he made his way over and was now facing her.

"What is it that you ne- _eeeeeeeeeeed!"_

Angelica punched Scrum in the stomach, causing him to buckle over slightly. She stopped him from collapsing in front of her by grabbing onto his mangy hair.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow!" Scrum cried out, but Angelica was unsympathetic.

"You had no business telling anyone about our affairs, least of all to some upstart girl, _comprende?"_ she sternly asked him.

"I _comprende,_ ma'am! Very much _comprende!"_ Scrum assured her, but Angelica was unconvinced.

"Speak out of turn again and I'll cut out that tongue of yours and use it as a paperweight!" she barked at him, "Now get out of my sight!"

Scrum didn't even reply to her, but instead took off running towards a place of refuge aboard the ship. Angelica exhaled sharply through her nose, relieved that that brainless dolt was out of her sight for at least a short while. How he had ever made captain was beyond her.

Angelica took out both the scroll and compass, observing the both of them very keenly. The scroll, of course, gave her confirmation of the _Aegis'_ existence, and she was eagerly anticipating finding the Shield soon.

But the compass was another matter entirely. When she took it off of the unconscious girl, she could not believe her eyes. This was the compass that pointed people towards the thing they wanted most in this world, and somehow it was not in the possession of the man she once loved but of some random girl that seemed to be playing at pirate. How had the girl gotten her hands on it? And where was Jack Sparrow now?

These things, however concerning, were of little consequence to Angelica. For now, she was focused on finding this mysterious artifact and seeing what secrets it may hold. For now, she could only remain fixed on where she knew the _Revenge_ was heading:

 _Havana._

* * *

 **A/N: Hey everyone! I know it's been an extremely long wait, and I apologize for that, but I have finally completed the latest chapter in my POTC saga.**

 **So now Angelica reenters the arena, and her motivations are as mysterious as they ever were. No doubt she plans to vex Carina further down the line and cause more trouble for the young captain, and this will only complicate the matter of Davy Jones.**

 **Thank you once again for being patient, and I hope the wait was worth it. I will try to update as soon as I can but life's been keeping me busy. As always, be sure to read, review, and share, and look out for the next chapter soon enough!**

 **Thank you guys and stay classy!**

 **\- Spent**

 **PS, Happy Thanksgiving!**


	14. Destinies Entwined

Days had passed, and the _Flying Dutchman_ was continuing on its course towards Barbossa's plantation. Afterwards, Will would insist that they depart for Port Royal post haste to find Henry. There was no guarantee that they were going to find Henry there, especially given the storm that Jones had unleashed, but in lieu of all other leads that was their only option.

Will still felt rather uneasy about being aboard the _Dutchman_ again, but thankfully this time he was not bound to the ship in any way nor was anyone aboard his enemy. He actually was able to get along quite well with Norrington's crew, as Norrington had far more rationality and less bloodthirst than Jones did when it came to captaincy. Chamberlain, Norrington's first mate, was particularly friendly with Will as they spoke together.

"You've known Captain Norrington a long time, right?" Chamberlain had asked one day.

"I knew him, long ago. We haven't seen each other in over twenty years," Will told him, "Mostly on account of him being dead for that time."

"I see," Chamberlain acknowledged, "He seems like a good man to me."

Will looked up to see Norrington standing at the _Dutchman's_ helm, looking out over the horizon. His expression was decidedly neutral, but Will could see that he was focusing some degree of effort to stay on top of things.

"He is," Will told Chamberlain, continuing to observe Norrington.

"How did he end up here?" Chamberlain asked.

"Sometimes fate deals people bad hands," Will explained to him, "I think every man aboard this vessel can attest to that."

"Aye," Chamberlain acknowledged.

After they had finished their talk, Will continued to ponder about Norrington's state of being. He knows that its not the most pertinent of things to focus on at this time, but at the same time he was wondering what his experience in Davy Jones' Locker was like to make him accept the position of being the _Dutchman's_ captain and sailing the seas for all eternity. After all, Will had only ever known two people who were sent to the Locker; one of them was Jack Sparrow, and he had gone mad (well, _madder)_ in a matter of months. Norrington, meanwhile, was trapped for twenty years and looked rather well-composed considering.

Will decided that he should go for it, since it wasn't like he had much else to do in the meantime.

Making his way up to the quarter deck, Will saw Norrington resting his palms against the railing and observing the crew before him.

"How much longer until we reach Barbossa?" Will asked him.

"A day at the most, I reckon," Norrington surmised, "Afterwards, we'll go rescue Henry. You have my word."

"Thank you," Will told him. He was still uncomfortable with the thought of delaying his son's rescue, but if Norrington spoke true about Jones, then this was for the best.

"Hey, can I talk to you about something?" Will asked, and Norrington craned his neck to look at him, "Preferably in private."

Norrington nodded, and then turned to the helmsman and said, "Jubair, keep her on course."

"Aye, Captain," Jubair responded, and afterwards Norrington and Will walked over to the edge of the unoccupied stern.

"What's on your mind, Mr. Turner?" Norrington leaned against the railing.

"I was just curious about your time in the Locker," Will said, and immediately Norrington had to look away.

"It must have been really hard for you, all those years," Will continued, but Norrington merely scoffed and said, "That'd be putting it mildly."

Hearing the disgruntled tone in Norrington's voice, Will said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you-"

"It's alright," Norrington raised a hand, "Figured that we'd have to address the elephant in the room at some point."

Norrington took his hat off and sighed, saying, "Your job was ferrying souls to Fiddler's Green. What was it like there?"

Will blinked, realizing that he never thought he'd have to recount his years as the _Dutchman's_ captain and ferrying souls to the next world.

"It's, uh..." Will began, "it's peaceful. I was never able to linger long, but from what I could see, everyone's troubles in life simply washed away. They would depart in high spirits, not a trace of sadness or anger at their deaths, but content with the realization of what lies beyond. And it truly is green."

Will chuckled, then continued, "Music plays, there's merriment, people never get tired... if it isn't Heaven then it's the next best thing."

Norrington continued to look away from him, his features looking uncomfortably rigid as if he was trying to restrain himself.

"And in all your years, did you ever happen to... to see..." Norrington began, stammering on his words, "Did you see Governor Swann there?"

Will felt the color drain from his cheeks at the mention of Elizabeth's father. Weatherby Swann had been killed by order of Cutler Beckett and had been left to make the journey to the next world on his own. The worst part was watching his journey firsthand as the _Black Pearl_ was trying to find a way to escape the Locker, and worse still was watching Elizabeth trying and failing to save him as he drifted beyond.

"Yes," Will explained solemnly, "He was at peace whenever I would see him. He would ask about Elizabeth and Henry often."

Will sighed himself.

"I've never told anyone about this before. Not even Elizabeth," Will explained, "I just... don't know why."

There was a tense pause between the two men, and then Norrington said, "It sounds beautiful there. I wish I could've seen it."

Norrington sighed, and then said, "The experience in the Locker is different for everybody, or so Calypso told me. For me, it was..."

Norrington trailed off again, and Will said, "Go on."

"I can't do this," Norrington said, storming off away from the stern and down the steps towards the doors to the captain's cabin.

"James, wait!" Will calls out after him, following behind. He opens the doors to the cabin to see Norrington make his way over to the ship's gigantic pipe organ and slam his hands down against the keyboard, sending shrill and uneven notes sounding throughout the ship.

Once the music dies down, Will could swear he hears faint sobbing.

"Please go away, Turner," Norrington said through his teeth while facing away from Will, his neck craned down over the keyboard. But Will didn't budge.

"James... what happened?" Will asked of him, worried about Norrington's stability, "Please, just tell me what happened and I'll do what I can to help."

Norrington lifts his head up but doesn't dare look Will in the eye. He takes a deep breath and exhales sharply.

"In the Locker... I'm stuck in a loop," Norrington began, his voice stern, "The same thing happens every day, again and again and again and again. I hear my father's shouts and cover my ears to no avail. I watch on as my crew gets swallowed up in that hurricane, but I always survive. I see Governor Swann bleeding, begging for help and asking why I couldn't save him. I'm stabbed by your father and left to rot, while you and Elizabeth have your arms wrapped around each other and laugh at my misfortune. Then I see Jones laughing at me, calling me weak and pathetic, telling me I should've accepted his offer. _And this happened every day for twenty years!_ "

An extremely tense silence fills the air around them, and Will can only feel an existential dread in his spine as he listens to Norrington lament on his suffering. Will knew that the Locker was a place of suffering but this sounded like the worst form of Hell imaginable.

The silence is broken only by the sound of a music box playing, and Will looks over to see Davy Jones' heart-shaped locket resting on the desk. Norrington takes his hands off the keyboard and walks over to the desk, picking up the locket and holding it in his hand.

"Now I know Jones' pain," Norrington remarks, his focus entirely on the locket in his palm, "Do you have any idea what its like? To try so desperately to do the right thing, only to lose everything and everyone you've ever cared about?"

Will held his tongue, not knowing how to respond. He figured it was best to let Norrington deal with his grief in his own way.

"I didn't want any of this," Norrington's voice cracks, "All I ever wanted was to do what was right. I guess life doesn't care whether we do right or not."

Will gulped, as Norrington's cynical words echoed a familiar phrase in his mind.

 _Life is cruel. Why should the afterlife be any different?_

"I wouldn't expect you to know," Norrington directed his focus towards Will, "Here you are with everything you ever wanted."

Will looked taken aback and said, "Now listen, I've dealt with my share of suffering-"

" _Suffering!?"_ Norrington directed at him "You don't know the meaning of the word! You have a wife and children! A life outside of the insanity of what we do! I can never have those things!"

"James, calm down," Will said, raising a hand and hoping to diffuse the situation.

"You wanted to know what the Locker was like? Well, I'm telling you right now that it was Hell, and I ended up there because of _you!"_ Norrington pointed a finger at him, "If I were as selfish as you, I could've been spared this fate! Maybe _I_ could be the one with a life right now!"

"You're being irrational, Captain, and you need to get a grip," Will mustered up his courage, but this only seemed to anger Norrington further as he drew out his sword.

 _"ENOUGH!"_ Norrington bellowed and swung towards Will. In a panicked instant Will drew out his own sword and blocked Norrington's strike. Norrington started to press his strength against Will's blade, causing the latter to start leaning backwards. Norrington then raised his leg up and kicked Will back, sending him through the doors and falling on his back onto the deck.

The _Dutchman's_ crew began to observe the commotion and Norrington started to pace forward out the door. Will quickly got himself up and readied himself to repel the hostile Norrington.

"What the hell is going on here?" Chamberlain asked, alarmed.

"Stay back, sailor! Mr. Turner and I have a personal matter to settle," Norrington addressed Chamberlain.

"Captain, get a hold of yourself!" Will argued, "We don't have time to for this!"

"Maybe you don't, but I got all eternity," Norrington snarled.

"Gentlemen, please! Let's not resort ourselves to petty violence!" Chamberlain begged.

"Don't worry, Mr. Chamberlain, I'm not going to kill Turner," Norrington said while gazing at Will, "We're just going to see who's the better man, isn't that right?"

"If you say so," Will replied, "I will say the odds are unfavorably stacked against me since I'm not immortal."

"First blood drawn from the torso," Norrington said, "Should be fair, yes?"

Will's face formed an angry smirk, which Norrington accepted as a yes.

Immediately following, Norrington swung forward with his smallsword and forced Will backwards along the _Dutchman's_ upper deck. Soon enough, Will's defense turned into offense as he struck forward a few times in an attempt to wound Norrington. This was a fight he didn't feel was necessary but for his pride he wouldn't let himself be bested by him.

They eventually found themselves on the small walkway between the rails separating the starboard side of the ship from the open hole revealing the open middle of the _Dutchman's_ lower gundeck. Will swung his sword forward and redirected Norrington's blade towards the inner rail. But shortly afterwards, Norrington backhanded Will across the face, the force of which took him off his feet and made him fall into the lower gundeck, dropping his sword in the process. Norrington vaulted over the rail onto the lower deck where the rest of the crew had cleared space for them to fight, and by then Will pulled himself to his feet. However, he realized he didn't have his sword in hand, so acting quickly he pulled the hatchet from his belt.

Norrington looked unperturbed, and afterwards swung forward with his sword once again. Will used the axe-head to block the blade and deflect it away from himself, knowing that fighting someone as skilled as Norrington was much more difficult without a sword. Norrington kept swinging his sword in an attempt to draw blood, but in his rage he missed his intended target and left himself exposed to attack. Will didn't hesitate and buried the hatchet in Norrington's chest.

Norrington stopped fighting and looked down at the hatchet embedded in his chest. Since he was immortal this would not kill him nor did it hurt all that much, but he still lost the fight he started against Will.

Will looked from the hatchet up at Norrington and saw his expression was less visibly angry and more melancholic.

"Well played, Mr. Turner," he congratulated Will in a sarcastic tone, "You've once again proven that I no longer have a heart."

Will was panting from exhaustion, but kept his attention on Norrington.

"If this is about Elizabeth-" Will began.

"I gave up on my love for Elizabeth a long time ago," Norrington explained, sounding defeated "None of it matters anymore. I am but an empty vessel fulfilling the duty that was once yours."

Despite their past animosity, Will couldn't help but pity Norrington. Though his words said otherwise, Will could see he was still in pain. Not from the hatchet or from his time in the Locker, but from having his heart stolen from him after giving it so freely. Maybe he still held feelings for Elizabeth that he ultimately could not do away with even after all this time.

Before they could continue on this matter, Chamberlain's voice called out "Ship sighted off the port bow! She's making straight for us!"

Will and Norrington, concerned, both immediately rushed up to the upper deck to see a ship in the distance approaching them.

"Spyglass," Norrington ordered, and soon after Lockheed put one in his hand. Norrington looked out over the ocean water towards the ship.

"Looks to be a schooner, probably a merchant ves-" Norrington paused, "Wait a minute... is that... I can't believe it!"

"What? What is it?" Will asked.

"Take a look for yourself," an astonished Norrington handed the spyglass to Will, who looked through it at the other ship to see...

"Barbossa," Will spoke aloud. Of all the ships they could've encountered, they happened to find the one ship commanded by the man they were already searching for. Just _what_ were the odds of this happening?

"It's a friendly vessel, gentlemen!" Norrington called out, "Let them approach!"

The _Eagle_ soon came up alongside the _Dutchman,_ and Barbossa's mouth was agape at the sight of the Gothic ship and the fact that they were able to find it here of all places in the Caribbean. Either this was all a great coincidence, or there was something else going on here.

Barbossa, Shansa, and his crew shortly thereafter made their way aboard the _Dutchman,_ and Barbossa took in the sight of Will and Norrington who also had their mouths agape.

"How is this possible?" Barbossa asked aloud.

"I was asking myself the same question," Will spoke next, "We were just on our way to come and find you, and here you are."

"Me?" Barbossa asked, "We were just en route to Port Charles to find _you!"_

Everyone looked around at each other utterly confused as to what was going on. There was no reasonable way to explain this situation.

It's almost like if it was destiny.

Hoping to find a way to break the present confusion, Barbossa looked over towards Norrington and saw that he had a hatchet embedded in his chest and was still standing.

"How are you...?" Barbossa didn't finish, and it was only then Norrington acknowledged it by saying, "Oh! Completely slipped my mind."

He nonchalantly pulled the hatchet out and handed it back to Will, who found this whole situation vexing.

"Captain Barbossa, I presume?" Norrington addressed the pirate, to which Barbossa replied, "Aye, and you might be-"

Before Barbossa could finish his sentence, Norrington came forward and punched him in the nose.

"Hector!" Shansa called out, holding Barbossa steady so he wouldn't fall over or fight back.

"What in the blazes was that for!?" Barbossa asked angrily.

"That was for Port Royal," Norrington stated simply, "Sorry, had to get it out of my system."

Something clicked in Barbossa's mind, whereupon he said, "Ye must be Norrington, then."

"Indeed I am," Norrington responded, "James Norrington, the _Flying Dutchman's_ new captain. Pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

"Ye have a funny way of showing it," Barbossa grumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "But I thought you were dead. How can you be the _Dutchman's_ captain when Davy Jones has returned?"

"Wait, you've seen Jones?" Will interrupted.

"You knew about Jones too?" Barbossa asked.

"Yes we do, and we came looking for you," Will explained, "Why were you looking for us?"

"Why were you looking for _us_?" Shansa asked.

Will, Barbossa, Norrington, and Shansa continued to question, bicker, debate, and answer for several moments, meanwhile the respective crews of both ships watched on in confusion.

Chamberlain blinked at the chaos of words they were all spewing between each other, not having any real context for any of these events. Johnson, Lockheed, and Jubair stood at his sides, equally confused.

"Anyone want to grab a drink?" Johnson suggested.

"Eh, what the hell?" Jubair said, "Let's let these folks finish their knitting or whatever."

"Amen to that," Lockheed said.

More time passed as both groups were caught up to date on everything that had transpired in the last few days. At least now they could function without any further confusion. Will got a particular kick at learning that someone as rowdy as Hector Barbossa had actually settled down, as well as learning that apparently he made Carina the _Black Pearl's_ new captain.

"She calls herself 'Sparrow' now?" Will asked, "Well, we're all doomed then."

"Yer not givin' her enough credit, she's proven herself to be an apt learner," Barbossa defended, "She is rather headstrong, and I feel like I let her down by refusing to help her pursue Athena's Shield."

"Carina probably doesn't even know that the Shield is one of the artifacts that Jones seeks," Norrington inserted, "He already has the Spear in his possession, so if he finds the Shield-"

"He'll be even stronger than before," Shansa finished for him.

"Let's pray Carina finds the Shield before Jones does, for her sake," Will added.

"It'd be even better if we knew where she was going," Barbossa added, "And what of the young Turner? Any luck trying to find him?"

"That's where we're going next. He's being taken to Port Royal to stand trial for desertion, and he might know more about this jewel," Will pulled out the Trident's jewel from his pocket, "I don't know how we'll find him, but when we do- what the?"

The orange jewel in his grasp started to glow brightly and vibrated in the palm of his hand.

Simultaneously, Triton's Sword started to vibrate in Barbossa's scabbard. Worriedly, he pulled the blade out as it continued to vibrate just like the jewel was.

"Norrington, what's happening!?" Will asked as the vibrating increased.

In an instant, the jewel and the Sword flew out of Will and Barbossa's respective grasps and joined together. The jewel inserted itself into one of the empty slots in the handle, and the weapon glowed with a bright, orange energy that surged throughout the blade. As it hovered in the air and displayed an otherworldly power, Shansa's hands were covered over her head as she began screaming in pain and fell onto her knees.

"Shansa!" Barbossa called out, getting down on his own knees and trying to help her.

"AGH! Hector!" Shansa called out through the pain.

"What's wrong with her!?" Will asked.

"I don't know!" Norrington told them.

After a few more moments of this fantastic and disturbing phenomenon, the Sword dropped out of the air and onto the deck, smoke rising from it.

Shansa let go of her head and Barbossa grabbed her arms before she could collapse.

"What just happened?" Barbossa asked around.

"The Sword detected the jewel's presence, and now they've merged together," Norrington bent down and observed the blade. He gingerly picked it up, grasped it by the handle, walked over closer to the port rail, extended it out towards the calm ocean, and at his command the waves began to swerve.

The Sword of Triton could now command the power of the sea.

"It has begun," Norrington remarked, looking back towards everyone.

"I've never felt such power before," Shansa said, eyes shut tightly, "It was surging like lightning, it was almost too much to bear, but..."

"But what, Shansa?" Barbossa asked her, concerned.

"A vision appeared in my mind. I know where they are. I know where they all are," Shansa told them.

"They?" Will asked of her.

"Carina, Henry, the Shield... I saw them all. In the same place," Shansa told them.

Will, his heart racing, knelt down and asked, "Where are they?"

Shansa opened her eyes, and then uttered a single word:

 _"Havana."_

* * *

Jones was in the Templar ship's cabin when he saw the Spear's green jewel glowing brightly. Soon after, Triton's apparition appeared before him, though this time he looked less transparent and more fully formed.

"I feel stronger than before," Triton addressed him, "One of the jewels has rejoined my Sword, but this was not of your doing."

"No, it was not-ah," Jones replied bitterly, "Perhaps if I had a faster ship or a better clue as to where-ah these weapons are then I could do this for you-ah!"

"That's why I've come to rectify the situation and expedite the process," Triton said, "You'll still have to use this ship..."

Jones grumbled in disappointment.

"... but now I know where Athena's Shield is, and probably more importantly to you, where William Turner will be," Triton explained.

"Then tell me-ah!" Jones bellowed.

Triton smirked, and then said, "Havana. The Shield is in Havana."

Jones did not know at that moment that someone aboard the Templar ship was spying on their conversation and hearing their every word.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for the long delay but here's the next chapter! Hope you all enjoyed and stay tuned for more! Stay classy and DON'T overbuy toilet paper!**

 **\- Spent**


	15. Havana

Several days had passed since the storm, and Henry and Scarfield remained adrift at sea. Most of their time those first few days was spent keeping their eyes open for anything of interest, such as cargo from the _HMS Sword_ or a passing ship that could rescue them.

With the former, they had little success, but success nonetheless. A crewmember's body lay adrift in the water, and after retrieving it the only things of value they could use were his soaked coat and a half-filled water canteen. If they were wise, the water would last them a few days at most.

After retrieving what they could, Henry and Scarfield put the sailor's body to rest.

"Lieutenant Maddox," Scarfield had said after they had done so.

"Did you know him well?" Henry asked of Scarfield, but the officer merely sighed and responded with, "No... I did not."

With the latter, there had been no such luck in locating a ship to rescue them. The first few days, the pair of them had their backs to each other, keeping their eyes peeled for any passing ships. As the days stretched out longer and their water supply ran thin, they knew they needed to conserve their energy, so they took turns on who would sleep and who would keep watch.

It was Henry's turn on watch. During his time adrift he had acquired some stubble on his face, as did Scarfield. There were no luxuries afforded to either of them, save for the clothes on their backs, three officers' coats, a small canteen, a pistol with one shot and no working gunpowder, and Henry's knife.

Henry was glad to at least have someone to speak to, if nothing else. To think, just a matter of days ago, they had been enemies trying to kill each other. But now here they were, trying to survive together in the face of impossible odds. Henry decided that life was funny like that. At the very least, talking to Scarfield kept Henry sane.

But what drove Henry to keep going, to keep himself alive and motivated to get home, were thoughts of his family. Of his little brother or sister when they finally arrived in this world. He was prepared to do whatever it took in order to get back to them. If that meant sharing this excuse of a raft with Scarfield, a man who had threatened people he cared about, then so be it.

But during this time away from his family, Henry began to reassess his priorities for his life. He was beyond ecstatic for his father to be home after twenty years of absence, and while this feeling had not changed in the course of the past year, Henry still felt like there was something missing. Almost like now that he had freed his father from the _Dutchman,_ his life lacked purpose somehow.

He felt obligated to help run his father's smithy, but deep down Henry knew that the life of a blacksmith was not the life for him. He wanted to forge his own destiny, one rooted in adventure and freedom for himself. That's why he had joined with the Royal Navy in the first place, and part of what made him look up to the stories of his parents and their escapades with pirates long ago. Of course, his present circumstances put a damper on such dreams, but did not extinguish them from the depths of his heart.

That's why Henry decided that, once he got out of this mess and made sure his family was alright, he would find Carina.

Henry very much doubted his chances of survival, but if he were to survive, he would waste no more time on the matter. He would set out and find Carina, no matter how long it would take him. They had been parted for so long, and Henry knew that now, more than ever, he had to let her know how he felt about her. He loved her, and didn't want to spend another moment on Earth not by her side. He could come aboard her crew, serve under her as they would make their own adventures, live life the way they wanted to, free and untethered to the ways of the world. Henry's one hope is that Carina felt the same way about him as he about her, though things may have changed in the year they spent apart and he wasn't sure what to expect.

While Henry was lost in his thoughts, Scarfield began to stir from his rest, causing the raft to shake ever so slightly.

"Ugh," Scarfield grunted, placing a hand to his eyes to avoid being blinded by the sun. Henry looked back towards him, and Scarfield slowly got up so as not to shake the raft any further.

"No luck yet?" Scarfield asked, throwing the coat draped over him off his body.

"Nope," Henry replied plainly, facing out towards the sea again as Scarfield put his back to him, "No ships, no land, not even creatures of the deep."

"A cruel irony," Scarfield remarked, "Water everywhere, and not a drop of it to drink."

"Heh," Henry laughed, "That's pretty good, actually. If we ever make it out of this, I'd pen that if I were you."

"What, and become a poet?" Scarfield questioned, "Not sure I'm of the right calibre for that sort of thing."

"Anything is possible," Henry tried encouraging him, "Just put ink to paper and let your mind do the rest."

"It's not that, it's just..." Scarfield sighed, "who wants to listen to the prattles of some orphan sailor who lost two ships under his watch?"

Henry turned his neck, startled slightly by this new bit of information.

"You're an orphan?" Henry asked, which was met only by a pause followed by a sigh from Scarfield.

"John, I'm sorry. I didn't know," Henry apologized.

"I didn't expect you to," Scarfield attempted to respond diplomatically. Henry thought about mentioning how his own father had been absent in his life, but decided to drop it.

The two sat in silence for a few moments, before Henry decided to ask another question that had been troubling him for days on end.

"Hey," Henry began, a slight tremor in his voice, "I know this seems like a weird question, but... what exactly did I do back at the jail?"

Scarfield swallowed, and then said, "Frankly, I'm surprised that you don't remember it. My men and I only arrived once the whole thing was over, and there were five dead men lying around you. I don't know how you managed to overpower them, but that wasn't even the strangest thing."

"What was it, then?" Henry asked, his mind still trying to process the new information.

"You were surrounded by the dead, and yet you were on your knees praying for the Lord's forgiveness in _Spanish_ ," Scarfield explained, "And once you'd finished, you turned in my direction and said, ' _Forgive him,'_ and then you collapsed."

Henry was taken aback by what he just heard. He had absolutely _zero_ recollection of the events of that day, and now Scarfield was describing actions that he had done in explicit detail. This information confused him as much as it shocked him, and he wasn't sure what to make of it. None of it made any sense. Surely if he had done something like this, he would remember it, right? Wouldn't he know how to control his own-

Something clicked in Henry's mind at that moment. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he realized what this could mean.

"I... don't know how to speak Spanish," Henry admitted to Scarfield. This was true, Henry had never formally learned the language enough to know any more than a few key phrases, so him being able to recite a whole prayer seemed preposterous.

"But you were, I heard you," Scarfield told him, "Sounded like a Catholic prayer, as a matter of fact. You're not a Catholic, are you?"

"No..." Henry said weakly, as the pieces started to fit together more clearly in his mind. And then he started to see the whole picture.

Speaking Spanish. A Catholic prayer. A brutal act of violence. Not being in control of his actions.

 _Oh my God._

It was no longer theoretical. It wasn't just memories from a past that was not his own in his mind, nor was it the cause of his frequent bad dreams. Henry knew what it was like to not be in control of himself.

Somehow, and he didn't know how, Armando Salazar was alive inside Henry's head. A part of his soul still existed, latching onto Henry after he had briefly possessed the boy's body. His mortal body may have died by Carina's hand, but Henry knew now that a piece of him lived within his very being.

Henry's breathing picked up, terrified by what this all meant. He had that monster inside his head for the past year, seeing through his eyes, lying dormant up until a few days ago. But how and why had he made himself known once again?

Henry thought about it for a moment, and the last thing he remembers from when inside the jail was feeling a surge of rage and pain before he lost control. When he calmed down, he was in control once more.

Salazar must've come out when Henry's body was under physical attack by those men. He took control and dispatched of them to preserve the host. But to what end? Surely, if Salazar desired to be free he would've let those men kill Henry instead of fighting back against them.

But then Henry remembered Scarfield telling him that he had said _"Forgive him,"_ before passing out. Henry was trying to figure out what this meant, but then came to a revelation: Salazar had asked Scarfield to forgive _Henry_ for the deaths of those men, not himself. No, he had already prayed to God to forgive himself, but had also made sure that Henry was not the one at blame. Why would he be concerned for Henry's innocence?

Henry knew then and there that he was not responsible for the deaths of those men, so he no longer had that burden on his conscience. However, this new development of _El Matador Del Mar_ living inside his head terrified him, doubly so considering that the man whose back he had up against him now lost his entire crew to Salazar just last year.

"You alright?" Scarfield asked after Henry's delay.

"Yes," Henry quickly lied, "Just... for the life of me, I can't remember any of this."

"Hmm," Scarfield didn't sound convinced as he took a small sip of water from their canteen.

Henry placed a hand to his head. This whole ordeal just became much more complicated.

* * *

The _Black Pearl_ was not renowned for its subtlety, at least not during daylight. That's why as it approached the port of Havana, the crew made sure to keep it as far from prying Spanish eyes as possible. As a precaution, the ship's Jolly Roger was replaced with Spanish colours so as to avoid detection.

In the days following their departure from Tortuga, Carina had been in hot pursuit of the _Queen Anne's Revenge._ If the harbormaster was telling the truth (and she was fairly certain he was), then this Angelica Teach, whoever she was, had likely reached Havana by now. Carina didn't know what she was doing there of all places, nor did she much care, but what did matter to her was the fact she had stolen her father's compass. Without it, she had no hope of finding Athena's Shield, and without the Shield she wouldn't be able to save Gibbs and kill Jones like she wanted.

Whoever this Angelica was, Carina was determined to find her and take back what was rightfully hers. And this time, she would be ready for her.

There was a part of her that told her it would be best to go back to Barbossa and request his aid, if only to help get the _Revenge_ back in the rights hands. But Carina knew where Angelica was going, and she wasn't sure where she'd get another chance like this. Besides, she knew that Gibbs and the others were running out of time, so she couldn't delay any further.

Looking out over the port rail with her spyglass, Carina saw that, unlike Tortuga, Havana looked mostly intact. Sure, a few buildings here and there looked like they were wrecked in the storm from days prior, but overall the integrity of the city appeared sound. Carina saw churches and brightly colored buildings clustered throughout her view, and she had to admit that the architecture looked quite beautiful. A lot of it reminded her of St. Martin back when she was a simple barmaid and aspiring astronomer.

She saw King Ferdinand's subjects wandering the streets, well-dressed in attire that seemed a touch more refined than what she experienced with British settlements. Based on this, Carina knew she would have to enter the city from a less reputable location so as to avoid the attention of the city guards.

Disguising herself would be easy enough. She could knot her hair, tuck it under her hat, and pretend to be a boy, and nobody would be any the wiser and believe her to be nothing more than a common sailor. And even if she couldn't bring the ship to dock, she could take a lifeboat and sneak in that way. The primary concern that Carina had at that moment was the fact that she would stick out like a sore thumb as an Englishwoman in a town full of Spanish; her complexion was too fair already that she would easily be identified as someone who grew up in London. To top it off, despite all of her prowess in learning, she didn't know a single word of Spanish. She supposes if she speaks what little Italian or Portuguese she knows, she can get by, but Carina fears that it won't be enough.

Worse still, she didn't know how she was going to find Angelica given the size of Havana. It might take her hours, maybe even days, before she catches any sign of her. So she had to act quickly and decisively in order to track her down and get the compass back. Until then, she had to maintain as low of a profile as possible.

"They don't appear to take too kindly to pirates here." Mullroy commented, looking at the city through a spyglass of his own. In his view, he saw three skeletons locked inside cages near one of the docks, with a sign next to it that read _"PIRATAS, TEN CUIDADO!"_ ("PIRATES, YE BE WARNED")

"Well, that's not good," Murtogg responded.

"... I didn't think there was another way of looking at this other than 'not good,'" Mullroy replied, a confused expression on his face as he turned to face Murtogg.

"I never thought there was," Murtogg defended himself.

"Then why did you say it when you didn't need to say it?" Mullroy inquired.

"I don't know, I just said it!" Murtogg's voice picked up.

"Ah, shut it, the pair of you," Marty grunted as he passed them by on his way to the bow. The two former Royal Marines then kept their mouths shut.

"Hmm, this dock doesn't appear to be safe," Carina spoke aloud, closing her spyglass, "Too many prying eyes. Let's head for someplace less conspicuous."

"Orders?" another of her crew asked.

Carina thought about it for a moment, and while she knew that at this point they were all safer in numbers, it did present a risk of being caught by the guards if they were to all travel together. Besides, she doesn't think that the crew would be able to spot Angelica as easily as she was pretty sure no one else aside from herself had met her.

"Find a dock that'll allow us to... blend in," Carina told the crew, "Afterwards, I'll go ashore and look for this woman on my own. You lot stay here and watch out for the _Pearl."_

"How long do you suspect we'll be here for?" Murtogg asked.

"A few days, perhaps," Carina answered, "Three at the most, I reckon."

"I dunno, Captain," Mullroy interjected, "Three days seems like an awfully long time, especially in a hostile port."

"With luck, I shan't be long," Carina told them, who then proceeded to start tying her long hair back so she could hide it.

Cotton, who was at the wheel, turned the ship to port as it continued to slowly veer towards Havana, and soon enough Cotton's parrot began squawking, "RAWK! Drydock! Drydock!"

Carina looked over at the harbor the parrot was referring to, and that's when she saw it. The _Queen Anne's Revenge_ was docked among the lower-class ships, itself having raised the Spanish flag in place of a black one. So Angelica was most definitely here already.

"Now we're getting somewhere," Carina remarked, having finished knotting her hair and tucking it under her hat, "Dock the ship out of the direct line of sight of the _Revenge._ I'll be going ashore shortly."

With that, she made for the captain's cabin and began to withdraw weapons from her own personal arsenal. She grabbed her sword, two regular-sized pistols, and a small pistol that she was able to tuck inside the right sleeve of her overcoat. As a precautionary measure, she also took four of the grenadoes she acquired in Tortuga and placed them alongside the shot and powder she was bringing with her. Carina was fairly certain there would be no need for high ordinance, but she wasn't taking any more chances with this Spaniard.

After she finished, Carina then closed her overcoat around herself, careful to disguise her womanly features. As if being English in a city full of Spanish wasn't enough, a seafaring woman would attract a lot of unwanted attention, and it probably wouldn't take the authorities too long to discover that she was a pirate too. No doubt that Angelica had taken the same precautions to avoid detection.

Carina stepped out of her cabin, armed and ready, and spoke, "Alright, just stay here and keep out of trouble until I get back. Don't worry."

"With respect, ma'am," Murtogg spoke up, "who's in charge until you get back?"

Carina did a quick glance around the crew, and with a smirk she replied, "You all can work that out for yourselves."

Murtogg and Mullroy glanced at each other as Carina stepped onto the dock, and as their captain made their way into the city of Havana, Mullroy then began rushing towards the ship's wheel saying "Called it!"

"You did not!" Murtogg whined, chasing after him.

Carina rolled her eyes without looking back, and then chuckled. She wonders how on Earth Jack and Barbossa were able to keep their crews intact if they behaved like this on a regular basis.

* * *

Henry woke up after his rest on the raft he was occupying, slow to rise so as not to overexert himself. It took a moment for the afternoon sun to leave his vision, and once it did he felt his thirst come back once more.

But the thing that occupied him more than his thirst was the knowledge that Salazar lived inside his head. If he lost control of himself again, he might hurt more people. He couldn't afford to let that happen, to let Salazar to have control of his body anymore than he already had. But at the same moment he was thinking this, he was afraid that Salazar was hearing every one of his thoughts, and how he could use that against him.

Henry couldn't think about him. He had to keep his thoughts elsewhere otherwise he may very well take control once again. Maybe this next watch for ships would allow him to focus on other matters. He supposes he should tell Scarfield to stop watching so he can rest himself, but as Henry is about to grab his attention, he sees him lying back against the raft, his lips pale and cracked, with a faint wheezing rising up through his mouth.

"John?" Henry spoke hoarsely, his own throat dry, "John, wake up."

Henry threw the coat draped over him off, and then started shaking Scarfield's shoulder to stir him to consciousness.

"John!" Henry got onto his knees and continues to try to shake Scarfield awake, but the officer continued to lie on his back as the wheezing of his breath continued.

"Come on, wake up!" Henry frantically spoke, slapping the man's cheeks a few times for good measure, but to no avail.

"John!" Henry begged, but it was no use. Scarfield was at a point of severe dehydration that he couldn't function properly.

Henry then hurriedly searched around for the canteen, and grabbing it, he opened the lid and try to pour it into Scarfield's mouth. However, only a few droplets trickled into his mouth, and Henry's eyes widened in fear. In desperation, he took the canteen and tried pouring water into his own mouth, getting only droplets himself before the thing emptied completely.

They had no more water. They were going to die of thirst out here.

Henry realized that there was no hope for either of them. If a ship didn't make itself known now, then they were both doomed.

Henry looked over from the unconscious Scarfield over to his pistol, which was lying next to him. He picked it up and looked at the pan.

The powder, which was miraculously still there, was now dry. The weapon could now be fired. But there was only one shot, and two of them. Still, Henry had his knife, and so that was still in the equation.

But Henry, despite being at the point of desperation, could not do it. He still clung to the hope that they may yet be rescued, that they need not die and be forgotten. He would not stoop to that low of a level and stain his soul.

At the same time, he felt weaker and weaker with every moment. He scanned the horizon in one final attempt at salvation.

 _Please, God. If you're there, please save us._

Henry was gazing in the vast distance of ocean, and upon a sudden, he saw something up ahead in the distance. A tiny speck of something he couldn't quite make out. Was his mind playing tricks on him?

But the image soon grew larger, and larger still, and Henry could see what looked like... Could it be...?

It was a ship.

There was a ship in the distance.

Finally, after several days, there was a ship within sight of them.

Henry tried to call out from the top of his lungs, but found himself lacking the strength to open his mouth.

He looked to the pistol in his hand. There was only enough powder for one shot.

He closed his eyes and prayed to God that the ship would hear it.

Slowly, Henry raised the pistol into the air and thumbed back the hammer.

 _BANG!_

The shot rang out like a cannon, a deafening boom among the silent sea.

Henry then began drifting off once more, having spent the last of his energy pulling the trigger. His head fell onto the deck, and he lay alongside Scarfield. The pair of them could do no more. Henry looked towards the horizon at the spec of a ship as his eyes drooped down, leaving him in blackness. They were closed for a moment, but when he reopened them he saw that the ship had come closer. His eyes closed again, and when they opened again the ship had come closer still. Henry managed a weak smile as he saw the ship come into view, and afterwards he lost consciousness completely.

The ship came alongside the two survivors, and from there the ship's captain looked down from the quarter deck towards the unconscious men. He saw the blue coats they were wearing, recognizing that they were officers in the British Royal Navy.

 _"Vamos, vamos!"_ the captain barked in Spanish, and quickly the sailors under his command made haste to bring them aboard. They carefully hoisted Scarfield and Henry aboard, taking both the pistol and the knife from them.

 _"Capitan,"_ a voice addressed him, and the Spanish captain turned to face who was speaking to him.

 _"Comandante,"_ the captain addressed the man before him. The _Comandante_ in question was a rather handsome man with long hair and darkened skin due to his lifetime of sailing the seas. On his person he wore clothing marking his place within nobility, as well as both a big, round, dark hat which was decorated with gold ostrich feathers and an elegant, fleur-patterned cup hilt rapier at his side. From appearances and title, one could misinterpret his stoic demeanor for arrogance, but if one were to observe closer they could see the hard-won experience in his features.

The _Comandante_ made his way down the staircase to where Scarfield and Henry were lying on the weather deck. With his hands held behind his back, the _Comandante_ looked down upon the dehydrated men and said, "Ensure that these two receive water and medical care immediately."

"At once, _Comandante,"_ the captain complied, "Might I ask what will become of them once we reach Havana?"

"Upon our arrival, they will be held as prisoners of war," the _Comandante_ explained, "but until then we are obligated, as gentlemen, to treat our fellow officers with respect.

He then heard violent coughing, and the _Comandante_ turned his head down to see Henry was awake. The boy looked around him, in complete bewilderment of where he was, and then he looked up in the _Comandante's_ face.

The _Comandante_ anticipated a peculiar reaction from these British - after all they had been lost at sea for Lord knows how long. But there was something about the way this boy was looking at him now that made him feel uneasy. Henry was staring carefully into his face, and his face alone, trying to discern the man's features.

 _"You..."_ Henry faintly spoke, _"I... I know you..."_

The _Comandante_ was most perplexed, but before he could inquire into the matter, the boy passed out once again onto the deck. Several sailors rushed alongside them ready to take them below for medical attention, and soon they were carrying both Henry and Scarfield below deck.

Even as they were now out of sight, the _Comandante_ felt most odd. He swears he's never seen that boy in his life, but the way he looked at him, the way he spoke to him, it was like he was staring into his very soul.

 _"Comandante Salazar,"_ the captain spoke to him, noting the concern on the nobleman's face, "Are you alright?"

 _"Si,_ _Capitan,"_ he responded, not looking the captain in the eye as he continued with, "Back to stations now."

As the ship resumed its course towards Havana, Anton Salazar could not shake the feeling that something most peculiar was going on. Almost... otherworldly.

The last time he remembers feeling this way is when His Majesty sent him to destroy the Fountain of Youth years ago.

He decided that it would be best to contemplate this matter alone, with the Lord as his guide as He always had been for him.

* * *

Carina spent some time wandering through Havana's streets, being careful not to look anyone in the eye as she made her way past merchants, sailors, carriages, horses, and soldiers on patrol. She kept her tricorn snug on top of her head, serving the functions of holding her knotted hair in place and making sure no one could get a clear look at her face. The less attention she drew to herself, the better. Out of anxiety, however, Carina couldn't help but grip the front of her overcoat even though it was already buttoned, fearful she would be discovered.

 _Just relax, Carina. Keep your head down and you'll be done in no time. Piece of cake._

Carina passed by a large, open market area filled with various merchants selling food and other wares. Nearby were stables containing various horses and burros that were tied off and secure. Weaving her way carefully through the crowd, she couldn't help but notice the stone cathedral nearby. It appeared to still be under construction, with scaffolding and carpenters all around it, but it was of a massive size nonetheless and complimented by two bell towers at either end of it. It was quite beautiful, but Carina remembered that she wasn't here to sightsee.

She kept her eyes peeled, looking for anyone that might be wearing a maroon overcoat or a leather hat, but so far she had no such luck. Perhaps Angelica wasn't in the markets after all, and Carina had to search elsewhere. She doubts that she would be found in one of the richer districts of the city, and there would be no reason for her to take refuge in a church or someplace similar.

Angelica must have come to Havana for a specific reason, Carina surmised. Furthermore, she had taken her father's magic compass, meaning that she knew what it was and how it worked. But for what reason was she here, and how did she even know about the compass in the first place?

Perhaps she was looking to make a trade on the black market, and Angelica would use the compass as something to barter with. Barbossa had taught her that most land-based black market trades were conducted in crowded, noisy taverns rather than back alleys so as not to arouse suspicion. It was then and there that Carina decided to start investigating the local taverns to see what she could find. If she was there, then Carina knew what to expect in regards to attack, but she was confident that she would surprise her before that could happen.

She spent some time afterwards popping into nearby taverns, perusing through the crowds to see if Angelica was among them. She bought a few drinks here and there to blend in with the crowd more. After visiting four of the city's taverns, Carina still had no luck in ascertaining Angelica's whereabouts.

"Where the hell are you?" Carina cursed under her breath. She was growing impatient.

The fifth tavern she came across was an open courtyard. There were several tables filled with burly and drunken sailors, some with women in their laps as they drank, while a couple of musicians in a nearby alcove were playing music that contained a Latin flair to it. In the center of the courtyard was a small "fountain" of sorts that contained a small pool of water. Nearby, Carina saw the bar area with several patrons on stools either drinking or passed out on the wooden bar area. She was about to turn her attention away when she saw something that made her eyes widen in surprise.

One of the patrons had their back turned to her, and she could clearly make out the maroon coat, pheasant plume, and cup-hilt rapier that she had seen only days before. Even if her own features marking her as a woman were hidden, Carina would not soon forget those effects.

"Angelica..." Carina uttered, beyond satisfied she'd found her target, but her temper was beginning to rise at the mere sight of the woman. Moreso when she saw the compass dangling from its string at her side.

She flexed the fingers of her right hand as she slowly approached Angelica, feeling the pistol she had tucked up her sleeve. She had to take great care with her next moves now.

As Carina continued to approach, careful not to draw attention to herself, she was able to overhear bits of the conversation taking place between Angelica and the bartender.

"And you're sure of this?" Angelica asked the man for reassurance.

 _"Si, se_ _ñ_ _orita,"_ the bartender answered her, "Two nights after tonight."

"When precisely does it begin?" Angelica asked earnestly, but the bartender merely shrugged and said, "Why should I know exactly when? It's not like I'm invited."

"Well, if you won't talk, I know something that might," Angelica replied, and with that she set a gold coin down on the bar. The bartender's eyes lit up in lust towards the gold, and then looked up to speak.

"Seven o'clock is when it starts," the bartender said, "There's a fifteen minute gap before they close off the gates to entry. But even then you need to have an invitation in order to get in."

Carina hesitated for a moment as she took all this in. Gates? Invitations? What was Angelica's game here?

"I'll take care of that part on my own," Angelica answered, _"Gracias, se_ _ñ_ _or."_

Carina's eyes drifted down to the compass and then back towards Angelica. No way was she going to take the compass without alerting her, so she knew she would have to use the element of surprise.

With a quick motion of her wrist, the small pistol slid out of her coat sleeve and into her palm, and immediately her fingers wrapped themselves around the weapon's handle.

 _"De nada,"_ the bartender replied to Angelica, "May I get you anything else?"

"Another shot of pulque, _por favor,"_ Angelica asked of him, to which the bartender nodded.

Angelica's eyes widened when she felt something jab against her spine and a chill ran down her neck, followed by a voice behind her ear saying, "Better make that two."

The bartender's eyes widened as well, looking away from Angelica and towards Carina instead. Angelica was about to crane her neck back to look at who got the jump on her, but before she could Carina said, "Don't turn around. Any sudden moves and I put a hole through your spine and ruin that lovely corset of yours, savvy?"

Something clicked in Angelica's mind when she spoke, and then she said, _"You."_

"Thanks for the advice, by the way," Carina taunted, pressing the pistol harder into Angelica's back, "Leading with a gun is a much more effective strategy. Wouldn't you agree?"

Angelica swallowed, and Carina then directed her attention towards the bartender and asked, "Well?"

Hesitantly, the bartender started to lower himself slowly so he could grab the bottle of pulque below him. As he was doing so, his eyes darted to the shotgun that was a little ways left of him under the bar. He knew that if he rushed for it then this woman would likely shoot him where he stood, so he did nothing. Afterwards he poured the pulque into two shot glasses and pushed them towards the two women.

Carina grabbed one of the glasses with her free hand and downed the drink in one gulp before setting the glass back down. Angelica grabbed the glass slowly and was even slower to drink it before setting it down.

 _"Niña, voy a disfrutar cortándote a cintas-"_ Angelica started to threaten in a low voice, but she was cut off by Carina who said, through gritted teeth, "Speak. Bloody. English."

"What do you want, then?" Angelica asked, maintaining her composure despite the threat to her right now.

"You've something that belongs to me," Carina informed her, "I've come to take it back. Now, I'd prefer to avoid bloodshed, but make no mistake I could kill you right here, right now, and nobody would be any the wiser."

"As if," Angelica scoffed, "You're just some girl playing at pirate. You know not the affairs that you meddle in. Leave now and you may yet live to see another day."

"Not without that compass," Carina retorted, "You've no right to it."

"Neither do you," Angelica responded, "I know who it truly belongs to, and I can imagine you do too, and that he's most displeased you've stolen it from him."

Carina froze for a moment. This woman knew Jack? More importantly, how did she know him well enough to know about the compass?

"I assure you, I did not steal that compass. Now," Carina thumbed back the hammer of the pistol, "hand it over."

"Kill me, and you'll never find Athena's Shield," Angelica said, "It's here, in Havana."

Carina hesitated once again, but thought better of it.

"You're bluffing," Carina retorted.

"I'll show you myself soon enough," Angelica said with a smirk, gripping the edge of the bar tightly and winking towards the bartender.

Before Carina responded, Angelica raised her leg off the ground and kicked back the stool she was sitting on with sudden swiftness. Angelica's grip on the bar kept her standing, while the stool she had been sitting on flew back into Carina and knocked her backwards towards the courtyard fountain, causing her tricorn to fall off and her hair to become loose.

"Ugh!" Carina grunted as she hit the ground, and when she did she accidentally pulled the trigger of the pistol she was holding and fired its shot with a loud bang. The bullet ricocheted off of the bar wall, causing the patrons there to abandon the bar and duck for cover, and then miraculously found its way to a bottle of tequila a sailor was drinking from, shattering the glass and causing the drink to spill all over the ground.

The sailor then looked to the man next to him, erroneously accusing him in Spanish of breaking his bottle, and then what started as an unnecessary brawl between the two escalated to the whole establishment becoming rife with fists and broken bottles. Except for the musicians who, oddly, chose to kept playing amidst the chaos that suddenly erupted.

Dropping the empty pistol onto the ground, Carina was picking herself and her hat off the ground when she saw Angelica vault herself behind the bar. She wondered why she hadn't taken off amidst the confusion when suddenly Angelica opened her coat and drew a pistol of her own.

"Not good," Carina gulped, and quickly she rolled out of the way as Angelica pulled her trigger, the shot missing her and instead striking the fountain and causing the water to splash.

Carina then got up and quickly took cover behind one of the courtyard's columns before opening her own coat and drawing another one of her pistols.

"You should have run when you had the chance, _chica!"_ Angelica's voice called out to her from behind the bar.

"I should've killed you when I had the chance," Carina retorted, "but that can still be rectified!"

"Likewise!" Angelica responded, finishing reloading her pistol. She looked to her left to see the bartender crouched behind the bar, and he looked to be reaching for the shotgun he had under the bar. Before he could grab it, Angelica gripped it by the butt and pulled it out, saying, "Much obliged, _mi amigo."_

The bartender looked frightened before Angelica tossed him an additional two gold coins, whereupon he took off running outside the establishment.

Shotgun in hand, she was prepared to take aim towards Carina when Carina peaked out from behind the column and fired her pistol, the bullet striking a bottle of alcohol on one of the shelves when Angelica ducked. Before Carina could draw her second pistol, Angelica popped back up with the shotgun and fired the powerful weapon into the column, tearing right through the wood and nearly hitting Carina.

Carina then dove from cover, rolling through the shallow fountain before Angelica could fire again, firing her other pistol shot which once again missed its target in favor of a bottle. Angelica fired the shotgun a second time, causing a greater splash in the fountain but failing to hit Carina once again.

Frustrated, Angelica tossed the now-empty weapon aside and drew her pistol out towards the column Carina was standing behind.

"Come out, _chica!_ You're only making this harder for yourself!" Angelica shouted.

Looking at the empty pistols in her grip, Carina knew she couldn't keep this up. She had no doubt that the city guards had heard the gunshots by now and were well on their way. She needed to resolve this now.

Then she smirked, realizing that she had an edge.

Holstering one of her pistols, Carina pulled out one of the grenadoes she had brought along and looked at it carefully. There was a fuse atop that, when ignited, would cause the thing to explode in five seconds.

"Here goes nothing," she spoke to herself. It was risky and dangerous, but what other choice did she have?

She held the grenado up to her pistol's pan and let the flintpiece drop down against the steel, causing a spark which then lit the fuse of the explosive. Seeing that the bar itself was occupied by Angelica alone, Carina then tossed the grenado out from behind cover and it landed next to Angelica behind the bar.

Angelica looked down at the small metal casing and saw the lit fuse, whereupon her eyes widened and she called out, _"MIERDA!"_

Without hesitation she threw herself over the bar and started running, but by then, the grenado exploded, destroying the bar and reducing it to little more than splintered wood and glass. The explosion had lit up the bottles of alcohol on the shelf, causing a fire to start on top of the debris. The concussive force sent Angelica tumbling to the ground, causing her own hat to fall off and her hair to fall down onto her shoulders.

Quickly, a dazed Angelica began to pick herself off when she was greeted with the sight of Carina reloading her pistols while remaining behind the column. With no hesitation, Angelica fired off her pistol shot which Carina narrowly avoided by maneuvering around the column. Afterwards, Angelica quickly scurried from up off the ground, grabbing her hat and shouting _"Una viruela en ti!"_ as she ran out of the courtyard.

Carina, having finished reloading, stepped out from behind the column to find Angelica had run off. Quickly, she holstered her weapons and began to give chase, desperately hoping she hadn't gone too far. Carina rushed out of the courtyard and onto the street where she was greeted with the sight of curious onlookers to the scuffle that had just occurred in the tavern, meanwhile the crowded streets made it almost impossible for Carina to see where Angelica was going.

She looked quickly from right to left, and then saw Angelica running through the crowds in an attempt to get away.

"Oh no you don't!" Carina shouted out, and proceeded to give chase. No way she was letting her slip through her fingers a second time, especially when she had her father's compass.

Carina was pushing her way through Spaniard after Spaniard, racing against time to catch up to Angelica. Angelica looked over her shoulder to see Carina was giving chase, and she knew that she had to shake the girl off of her tail.

After a fair bit of running through the streets, Angelica came to a halt when she saw a patrol of guards coming up the street, rifles in arm. No doubt they were investigating the commotion at the tavern and were bound to start asking questions. She looked to her right and saw an alleyway with laundry lines suspended overhead, and saw this as her chance to lose both the guards and Carina.

Carina saw her take off sharply to the right, and saw her duck into the alley. She quickly made her way through the crowd to the alley's entrance to see Angelica was well ahead of her already.

Angelica was making for the other end of the alley as fast as possible, unimpeded due to the lack of crowds. The beggars at the side held their hands out to no avail as Angelica passed by, and as Carina began to come up behind her they did the same to no avail.

Angelica looked over her shoulder to see Carina was still in pursuit, a determined look in her eyes. She knew she had to do something to throw her off. Looking ahead to her left, she saw that there was a ladder in place that led to the rooftops. Perhaps she could lose her there.

She made it to the ladder and began to climb up. Soon after, Carina reached the ladder and began to climb up as well, determined not to let her out of her sight. Angelica climbed the ladder, but Carina drew nearer still. The girl was nearly at her heels when Angelica decided it was time to play dirty, and then kicked her in the face, which caused her to lose her grip on the ladder and start falling.

"AAAAAAHHHHH!" Carina screamed, but she was able to save herself at the last minute by grabbing hold of one of the laundry lines nearby. Seeing this, Angelica looked at her, completely perplexed.

"Perhaps I underestimated your resourcefulness," Angelica told her, and with that she drew out her rapier and cut the end of the laundry line with a simple slash.

Carina screamed once again as the laundry line dropped from one end, but she held tight to the line even as she was falling. An assortment of wet garments smacked against her, but Carina did not lose her grip. Eventually, the line straightened itself out about halfway up off the ground, and acting quickly Carina was able to use her feet to keep her from slamming against the side of the building.

While all this was happening, Angelica had made her way to the top of the building and kicked the ladder down to the ground. However, after having done this, Angelica saw Carina tear the wet laundry off of herself and begin scaling the wall, her grip still tight on the one end of the laundry line. Angelica just stood there on the rooftop, incredulous to what she was witnessing.

Just who exactly _was_ this girl?

Carina had finished scaling the building and clambered onto the rooftop, taking deep breaths to relieve her present exhaustion. Picking herself off, she looked over the edge of the rooftop to see Angelica standing on the roof adjacent. The Spanish woman's jaw hung open at the English woman's resilience.

Carina was wondering how she could pursue her next when she looked to her right and saw that the two rooftops were connected by a small bit of scaffolding. Angelica's eyes darted there as well, and in that moment was wondering why she hadn't taken off sooner.

In another moment, Angelica took off running again, and Carina began to make chase once more.

"Get back here, you Spanish harlot!" Carina shouted at her as she crossed the scaffolding. Meanwhile, Angelica had jumped off of the rooftop she was on and landed on an adjacent one beneath her, rolling so as to break the fall on her legs. Carina soon came across this gap and jumped it herself, performing the same roll that her target just did. Angelica saw that the distance between them was closed, so she had no choice but to defend herself now.

Angelica drew her rapier, and upon seeing this Carina pulled out her cutlass, and the two women began to duel once more. Carina was pressing much of her energy into her attacks, wanting to see this matter done and over with already. Angelica, however, saw this and took a defensive stance, hoping to weaken her opponent so she could escape easier. Carina brought her sword down upon Angelica, who deflected it and flourished her blade a bit before knocking her back with the cup of her hilt. Carina stumbled for a moment, and Angelica saw this as her opportunity to make her escape.

Angelica jumped over to the nearby rooftop, Carina following close behind. This continued on for a while before the rooftops shifted from flat to tiled, and when Angelica leapt onto one of these she nearly lost her balance when a tile became loosened under the pressure of her boots. Carina had similar trouble when she jumped on and almost slid off the roof. The two women resumed swordfighting for a brief moment before Carina stepped on a bad tile and she lost her balance completely. Angelica took advantage of this distraction to run off, but saw there were no more rooftops in her path. She quickly glanced around looking for some sort of escape route, and then saw the cathedral to her left with the scaffolding on the edge.

Carina had slid off the roof and grabbed the edge with one hand while holding onto her sword with the other, drawing gasps from the people in the streets below. She looked up to see where Angelica was, and when she did she saw her leap off of the rooftop, soar through the air for a moment, and grasp onto the cathedral's scaffolding at the last second. As Carina was observing all of this, she thought two could play at that game. Without climbing back onto the rooftop, Carina launched herself off of the side of the building and ended up grabbing hold of the edge of the scaffold just beneath Angelica.

Once Angelica caught sight of Carina, she began racing her way up the many platforms of the scaffolding, with Carina continuing to chase after. Angelica began pushing the carpenters out of her way and threw one of them down to block Carina's pursuit, but the girl simply hopped over the man and continued onward towards the cathedral roof. Angelica ran out of scaffolding and leapt onto the roof, and looked behind her to see that Carina had done the same.

They engaged each other in combat again, Carina having corrected her mistake about going on the offensive so soon. She allowed Angelica to press the advantage briefly before counterattacking and forcing her back. Angelica had to jump back from a forward lunge from Carina, but at the moment her boots landed on the church roof again, the tile beneath her collapsed and this time Angelica was the one to fall through, screaming.

Carina blinked in confusion, and looked down the hole in the roof to see what became of Angelica.

Angelica groaned as she sat up, brushing pieces of wooden debris that had landed on her off. As she took a moment to observe her surroundings, she noticed wood paneling all around her, but looking to her right she saw the face of an old man, skin pale with shock and eyes widened in surprise, through the wooden grate separating the two of them.

She had landed in a confessional. Oh great.

"Do you have anything that you wish to confess, my child?" the priest spoke, a tremor in his voice.

Angelica peered closer to the grate and then, in a low voice, asked, "How long do you have?"

Before the priest could respond, Angelica looked upward and saw Carina looking down at her.

"Perhaps another time, _Padre,"_ Angelica told the priest, and with that she rushed out of the confessional. Carina soon after jumped down through the hole Angelica had fallen through and landed in the confessional next.

She shared a bewildered look with the priest, the latter of which blinked at this insanity.

"Do you wish to confess anything?" the priest asked her, perhaps a little more hesitantly.

"I confess that I'm an Anglican, a scientist, and a pirate, but certainly not a damn witch," Carina stated bluntly, "Where'd the other woman go?"

The priest raised a finger and pointed to his right.

Carina tossed a Spanish dollar to him through the grate, and said, "Go buy yourself a nice Bible or something."

Without another word, Carina dashed out of the confessional and saw Angelica running out of the church doors. Carina followed close behind and onto the street, but the pair of them came to a halt when they saw Spanish soldiers in green coats rushing towards the front of church, armed with muskets and swords. They were flanked by other soldiers on horseback.

So much for subtlety. Though of course, Carina should've realized that you were bound to attract some attention with gunshots, swordfighting on rooftops, and explosives.

Angelica saw Carina standing alongside her, transfixed on the approaching Spanish, and she took this opportunity to push Carina to the ground so she could escape.

"Ugh!" Carina grunted, and when she looked up to see where Angelica had went, she saw she had jumped onto a passing four-horse carriage, knocked the driver off, and took the reins for herself. Carina then looked back towards the Spanish who were getting closer.

"Not good, not good, not good, not good, not good!" she panicked as she quickly picked herself off and began running away from the Spanish.

In an act of desperation she ran towards the nearby stables. Using her sword, she cut free one of the horses already saddled, a white Arabian from the looks of it, and started to mount it.

The Spanish soldiers drew closer to the stables, but by the time they had gotten there, Carina had mounted the horse and grabbed hold of the reins.

 _"Hyah!"_ she called out, causing the horse to whinny and start galloping forward. The horse began picking up speed, and the soldiers then began diving out of the way to avoid being trampled. Carina then flew out of the stables at high speed, causing the crowds to disperse as she came through on the powerful beast.

Carina smiled, thinking to herself that now she'd catch up with Angelica in no time. But the smile then fell from Carina's face when she remembered something rather important.

She had ridden a horse before, when she visited her Uncle Cutler.

Once before.

When she was twelve.

And she remembers getting bucked off into a pile of mud after three minutes.

Afterwards her mother had forbidden her to go near the things ever again.

"Maybe I should've thought this through," Carina spoke to herself.

Carina's feelings of instant regret were cut short by the sounds of gunfire, and she peered over her shoulder to see that the soldiers on horses were now trying to catch up with her, firing pistols in her direction. The horse seemed to whinny in fear and then began to twist and turn in different directions.

"Woah, horsie! Calm down, boy! Or girl. Whatever you are," Carina said in her feeble attempts to calm the horse, but the Arabian didn't seem to listen as it started zigzagging through the streets, causing no shortage of panic among the citizens crowding its streets that had to dive away in fear.

"I am so, so, so terribly sorry, everyone!" Carina apologized, but then realized that they probably didn't understand English anyway, so her words were wasted.

Angelica heard the gunshots and turned around to look at her pursuers, but she then saw Carina on the white horse, seemingly out of control but still on her tail.

"What in the name of...?" Angelica muttered to herself, astounded by this girl's determination. She then drew her pistol and aimed it backwards, attempting to shoot Carina right off the horse. However, due to the horse being out of control and swerving, the shot missed its intended target, but did cause the horse to be spooked even further and started bucking.

"Good horsie! Good horsie! Good horsie!" Carina called out, trying to get the beast back under her control, but soon the horse was becoming so violent that it ended up bucking Carina off of the saddle. Her grip on the reins slipped, and she fell down the horse's right side. She grabbed hold of the saddle's horn, and her boots began dragging on the dirt road below her as the horse galloped onward.

"Bad horsie! Bad horsie! BAD HORSIE!" Carina yelled at the horse. She looked back and saw the Spanish were prepared to fire at her again, and she knew she had to fight back. With her right hand tight on the saddle horn, Carina drew one of her pistols with her left hand while hanging off the side of the horse, and took careful aim at the targets before her. But in a flash, she saw a stationary wagon full of barrels to her right, and the back of which was perpendicular to the street they were riding down.

Adjusting her aim from the riders to the wagon, she shot the mechanism holding the door to the wagon in place, and all at once several heavy barrel began tumbling out of the wagon and onto the street. The panicking Spanish soldiers had to swerve their mounts to avoid being crushed by the barrels, providing Carina with an opportunity to outdistance them and catch up with Angelica. This chase had gone on long enough.

Mustering her strength, Carina remounted the horse, and pulled on the reins hard to get the creature back under her control. She cracked the reins and sped up, careful to weave and bob her way around the crowd until she edged closer to Angelica's carriage. She drew her other pistol as she neared her and took aim, but just as she was about to fire the shot, Angelica's carriage took a hard left, causing Carina to miss her shot. She swore under her breath as Angelica looked back at her, and after holstering her pistol she drew her sword once more.

Angelica cracked the reins of the carriage in an attempt to outpace Carina, but the girl was drawing too close. Eventually, she came up alongside the carriage and started swinging her cutlass at her, forcing Angelica to draw her rapier to defend herself. Angelica then directed her blade away from Carina and towards the leg of the horse, causing it to whinny in pain and Carina to lose control once more. Carina decided this stratagem was getting her nowhere, so when a carriage moving in the opposite direction came up alongside Angelica's carriage, she leapt off the horse and through the carriage's open window.

Carina was now facing a bemused older couple that began bombarding her with questions in Spanish she couldn't understand. Shaking her head, she clambered to the top of the carriage and sat next to the driver and said, "I'll give you five dollars right now if you piss off."

She placed the money in the man's hand, and without hesitation he jumped off and let Carina take control of the carriage. She then swerved hard to the left to turn the carriage around, leading the couple within the carriage to start shouting in anger as they were tossed and tumbled.

Carina was back on course and raced with her own team of horses towards Angelica, and without giving herself away she rammed her carriage into the left side of Angelica's. This caused the couple in the carriage to decide that jumping out was the best idea, and the equipment keeping the horses tied to each carriage became locked together, linking the carriages themselves.

Angelica recovered from the jolting sensation of being rammed to see Carina stand up from the driver's seat and raise her cutlass.

"What is _with_ you?" Angelica sounded more annoyed than angry, and she stood up and drew her rapier.

The carriages continued barreling down the street, meanwhile the citizens of Havana bore witness to the spectacle of Carina and Angelica's swordfight on top of the carriages. The fight itself was brief but furious, and ended only once the strain of the linked carriages caused the horses to break free of them. Now the horseless carriages were moving forward ever closer towards the front of the cathedral where this all started.

Recognizing that the carriages were going to crash, both Carina and Angelica leapt off the back of the carriages and tumbled onto the dirt road. Meanwhile the carriages crashed through the doors of the cathedral, and even managed to smash through the pews before coming to a complete stop in front of the altar. The priest that had been in the confessional came out, took one good look around him, and then collapsed from shock.

Angelica grunted, and saw that her sword was lying some distance away from her. Before she could grab it, a black boot kicked it away from her, and the next thing she saw was the sight of a glistening steel blade move across her face.

"AGH!" Angelica cried out as Carina cut her across her left cheek, and in this moment of pain Carina pulled the compass from her opponent's belt and held it in hand.

"Finally..." Carina said with great relish, as Angelica placed a hand to her cut cheek. The chase was over, Angelica was defeated, and she had gotten her father's compass back.

"So, do I still have much left to learn then? Or are you prepared to go another round?" Carina gloated to the fallen Spanish woman, pointing her sword down at her. Angelica looked up at Carina with a mixture of anger and humiliation.

Carina was expecting Angelica to respond with a series of angry retorts, but instead the woman looked at her blade, then back up at her, and said a single word:

 _"Barbossa."_

Carina's sense of victory was replaced by a bit of confusion.

"I'm sorry, what?" Carina asked.

"Barbossa… your technique... you were taught by Barbossa," Angelica said in a somber tone, removing her hand from her face so she could prop herself up to face Carina properly.

"How do you know Barbossa?" Carina asked.

"Because Barbossa was the one who killed my father! You come to finish his work?" Angelica asked, and then certain things started to make sense to her.

Her name was Teach. She had commandeered the _Queen Anne's Revenge_ from Scrum, and before then the ship belonged to Barbossa, and before him, it belonged to-

"Blackbeard," Carina said in a moment of realization. Angelica here was the daughter of the infamous pirate, Edward Teach, otherwise known as Blackbeard.

Carina was wondering what she was going to ask her next, when upon a sudden, she sees something most peculiar happen right before her eyes.

The long cut that she had made along Angelica's left cheek had been bleeding not but moments ago. But now, Carina looked closely and saw the skin had begun to heal itself instantaneously. In another moment, all that remained of the grievous injury she had done her was a few specks of blood on her face.

"What the f-"

 _"Suelta tus armas! AHORA!"_ a booming voice sounded. Carina and Angelica looked around the area to see they were surrounded by two dozen Spanish soldiers, all of them holding muskets.

Carina raised her arms slowly in the air, and dropped her cutlass onto the ground. She should've fled back for the docks while she had the chance.

"Nice going, _idiota,"_ Angelica spat at Carina, raising her hands alongside her as she got to her feet. The soldiers then came forward, confiscated all of their weapons, and placed their arms in chains.

"Look at the bright side, _chica,"_ Angelica said as they were being escorted away, "At least now, if you hang, you won't have to do it alone."

Carina said no words further, but mentally reprimanded herself for being so stupid. Now she was detained by the Spanish, and Davy Jones was still out there. Carina knew if she had any hope of getting out of this one, she had to think of something fast.

* * *

Henry awoke gasping for breath, but found himself not enduring the same level of overwhelming thirst he had felt before. For once, he was not greeted with the sight of the sun in his face as he had many other days, but instead saw what looked like was the interior of a ship. He sat up slowly, and when he did, he saw Scarfield sitting upward across from him, fully conscious and very much alive.

"John-" he started to speak excitedly, but Scarfield quickly raised a finger to his lips telling him to be silent. He then pointed to his left, and Henry looked right to see that, once again, he was in the brig of a ship. Only this time, Scarfield was in the cell with him, and the guards were wearing Spanish uniforms.

"What's going on? I thought we were rescued," Henry asked.

"We were rescued, but now we're in the custody of the Spanish Royal Navy as prisoners of war," Scarfield elaborated.

Henry raised an eyebrow in confusion. _Prisoners of war?_ That didn't make any sense.

"I don't understand," Henry said, "I thought England was at war with France, not Spain."

"Officially speaking, a state of war exists between England and France," Scarfield began, "Unofficially speaking, King Ferdinand signed a treaty with King Louis to regard any British military vessels and personnel as an accessory to war, especially in the Caribbean. Right now, we're inbound to Havana, though I imagine that a prisoner exchange will be held soon enough for officers."

Henry blinked, "What do you mean, 'officers?' I'm not in your navy any longer."

"That may be, but they saw you wearing that coat alongside me when they found us," Scarfield said, and Henry looked down at the blue officer's jacket he was wearing, "So as far as they are concerned, I am Commodore Scarfield and you are Lieutenant Commander Maddox, and you stick to that story and tell them nothing else. Otherwise they might find cause to hang the both of us."

"Oh, great," Henry muttered. Now he had _this_ to deal with too. At least now he wasn't going to die of thirst, but his immediate prospects didn't look any more promising.

The ship suddenly came to a halt, and then the ship's captain came down, and said, "Bring the prisoners up on deck. The _Comandante_ wishes to escort them personally."

The captain had both Henry and Scarfield brought up to the deck, whereupon they were greeted by the _Comandante._

"Gentlemen, welcome to Havana," he said, "I am the military _comandante_ of this city, and rest assured that your needs will be attended to while you are here. As officers, we will show you every courtesy afforded according to the rules of war."

Henry remembers seeing the _Comandante_ briefly before he passed out. He had never seen the man in his life, but one look on his face and it appeared to Henry like he somehow had known the man for a lifetime. If nothing else, based on his demeanor, he could tell that this man was a man of honor. But where exactly had he seen him before?

Henry had no answers. All he knows is that after the Spaniard had finished speaking, sacks were placed over his and Scarfield's heads as they were escorted into Havana, unaware of what lay ahead of them.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello there! It's been a while, I know. You'd be surprise how, even in quarantine, time manages to escape one's grasp. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this super long chapter (the longest in this story yet) and hope it provided all the classic thrills, twists, supernatural surprises, and sense of fun you'd expect from a swashbuckling tale about pirates. I've been looking forward to writing this chapter for a very long time, and now I have it good and ready for your enjoyment.**

 **A lot of stuff happens in this chapter, many bits of it continuing off of threads first introduced in On Stranger Tides, but in summation Carina, Henry, Angelica, and Scarfield are now in Havana at the clutches of the Spanish, as an old yet new friend makes his return to the series. Next time we will see more paths cross as both sides of this conflict converge on the Cuban capital, and you won't want to miss what comes next!**

 **Hope you all enjoyed, and as always if you have any questions feel free to review or PM me and I will get back to you as soon as I can.**

 **Stay healthy and stay classy!**

 **-Spent**


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